


Into Infinity

by DarkQueenSigyn, edelweissroses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), F/M, Gen, Multi, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-05-13 16:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19254979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkQueenSigyn/pseuds/DarkQueenSigyn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edelweissroses/pseuds/edelweissroses
Summary: An alternative version of both Infinity War and Endgame in which the roles are reversed, and everyone who was killed in Infinity War survives, and vice versa. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME.





	1. I. LOKI

When they had taken the Statesman ship, they had spared Loki -- recognizing him for the work he had once done under Thanos, so long ago. 

But they had forced him to stand beside them, and watch. Watch as they slaughtered the Asgardian refugees. Innocent men, women, children. All of them now lay dead, as Ebony Maw stepped over their corpses as if they meant nothing.

Loki was held at gunpoint; he was powerless to stop them. Even the slightest spell would result in a swift death. 

He had tried to distract Thanos with the Tesseract, but even the Hulk was bested by the Mad Titan. 

Heimdall had been wounded, but survived thanks to Valkyrie. He used the last of his powers to not only transport the Hulk to Earth, but himself and Valkyrie along with him. This action likely saved all three of them.

Now the Mad Titan himself had Thor in his grasp. Loki still had the Tesseract in his hand, staring down the man who had once tortured him until he bent to his will.

“You have a choice to make,” Thanos told him. “Give me the Tesseract, and swear your loyalty to me...or your brother dies.”

This time, Loki knew he wasn’t bluffing. 

Even as Thanos held his head in his giant hand, even as he was entirely at his mercy, Thor still cried out to his brother.

“Don’t do it, Loki!” he shouted, to the best of his ability. “You’re --”

But Thanos tightened his grip, and Thor choked on his sentence.

No amount of tricks, no magic could get them out of this situation. Even the Hulk had failed. 

There was no other way.

“I, Loki...Prince of Asgard…”

He locked eyes with Thor, where he was restrained.

“...Odinson.”

Thor’s one eye was trained on Loki, and it almost seemed to be filled with tears.

“...the rightful King of Jotunheim...God of Mischief…”

Loki stepped towards Thanos, before sinking down onto one knee in front of him. He held up the Tesseract freely for him to take.

“...do hereby pledge to you, my undying fidelity.”

He lowered his head, as if in a bow, but there was bitterness in the action. Even his words were edged with the slightest tinge of resentment.

Thanos reached out, and took the Tesseract in his free hand. With one quick squeeze, the cube burst into a thousand pieces, leaving only the Space Stone within; which the Titan was quick to add onto his Gauntlet.

Now he had two of the Infinity Stones -- four left to go.

As the unmistakable sound of the stone joining with the Gauntlet echoed all around them, Loki once again lifted his gaze towards Thanos.

Thanos met his eyes, a smile starting to tug on the edges of his mouth.

Slowly, he lifted his hand off of Thor’s head, allowing him to breathe again.

The two sons of Odin shared a look of pain, of remorse -- and of understanding.

In an instant, Thanos’ hand closed on the back of Thor’s neck, and began to choke the life out of him. 

Loki was on his feet immediately. 

“What are you doing?!” he exclaimed. “I gave you what you wanted! Let him go!!”

Thanos was still smiling.

“You’re weak, little Jotun prince,” he told him. “Your loyalty is not to me, and it never will be. No matter what, you would only seek to destroy me.”

He tightened his grip, and Thor’s airways closed as he struggled for breath.

“Stop!!” Loki cried out, trying to rush forward.

One twitch of Thanos’ finger, and Loki was frozen in place by the power of the Space Stone. Unable to move, once again powerless to do anything but watch as his brother died.

“Loki…” Thor managed to gasp out, his one remaining eye focused only on his brother. His mouth continued to move, even as the sound of his voice drained away. “I...I’m...sorry…”

Thanos twisted his fist, and with a horrific cracking sound, the God of Thunder was dead.

“NO!!!”

Loki’s scream of grief echoed throughout the cosmos, as Thanos released his hold and Thor’s lifeless corpse rattled to the floor of the ship.

“Your world will burn,” Thanos said simply, his eyes fixed on Loki as he stepped down from the platform. “And so will you.”

The Power Stone sent purple flames billowing through what was left of the ship, and the Space Stone transported Thanos and his henchmen out of the ship to their next destination -- Earth.

As Thanos vanished, the hold on Loki dissipated, dropping him to the floor. The air was momentarily knocked out of him, and as he caught himself his breath heaved out in a sob. 

The ship was falling to pieces all around him, and still Loki dragged himself across the floor, over to his brother’s body.

“Thor…” he choked out, his voice little more than a whisper.

His head swam. His body was too heavy to move any further. 

Thor was dead. Thor was dead. And it was all his fault.

He sank against his brother’s body, his face falling into his shoulder, and for the first time in centuries, he allowed the tears to come as the ship cracked into pieces. He would be joining Thor soon.

~

On Earth, Doctor Stephen Strange stood in the Sanctum Santorum, embroiled in conversation with his associate, Wong, when he suddenly paused midstep.

He trailed off mid-sentence, and his expression dissolved into one of shock, confusion...and pure horror.

“What? What is it?” Wong asked.

“You don’t hear that?” Strange answered, unmoving.

Wong was silent for a moment, and listened as hard as he could.

As he concentrated, he found that he could hear what Strange was hearing, even if only the faintest echo of it: a scream.

“...What is that?” Wong wondered aloud, now sharing in Strange’s horror.

“That...is suffering,” Strange said simply, finally meeting Wong’s gaze again. “Suffering in its purest form. The kind of suffering so immense that it reaches across the galaxy itself.”

“What does it mean?” Wong whispered, and Strange shook his head.

“Nothing good.”

The moment the words had left his lips, there was suddenly an earth-shattering crash, as something immensely large fell straight through the roof of the Sanctum and through the staircase that the two men had just finished descending.

Both mages wheeled around towards what was now a gaping hole in the staircase, rushing forward to investigate.

At the bottom of the hole they saw three figures, all huddled together. The larger figure had been shielding the other two as they fell, and before Strange and Wong’s eyes they watched the hulking green beast shrink down into a mere man; shirtless, salt-and-pepper-haired, and wild-eyed.

The other two were a woman with dark hair in intricate braids, and a bearded man with dreadlocks and blazing gold eyes. The man was bleeding from a wound in his side, and the woman’s hands were pressed against it in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

“Help us!” the woman exclaimed. “Please! He’s dying!”

The two sorcerers were quick to attend on them, using both magic and extreme care to lift them out of the pit.

The other man, who was no longer green, stumbled in place as his feet once again touched the floor.

“He’s coming…” he murmured under his breath.

Strange was already on his knees, using both his knowledge of magic and medicine to administer quick care to the bleeding man.

“Who’s coming?” Wong asked.

“...Thanos.”


	2. II. QUILL

Quill rubbed his temples.

Gamora was mad at him, again, for who the hell knows what. Groot was shedding leaves everywhere. They’d just run out Calurnian coffee, which wouldn’t be so bad if Rocket wasn’t positively addicted to the stuff and would become even more of an insufferable grouch without it. Drax had plugged up the toilet for the second time that week. Mantis had started crying over the thought of kittens and, to put the cherry on top, now they had a not-dead corpse splayed out on their dining table!

Ugh. Garfield had it right.

_Mondays._

“Okay, okay,” Quill rubbed his forehead, “That’s the last time we’re taking a distress call for forever.”

“For forever?” Mantis gasped.

“For forever!”

Quill bumped his head against the wall. One, two, three, four—Such a shame he had a hard head, otherwise it might’ve knocked some goddamned sense into him.

They’d flown into a massacre. Bodies strewn across the sky, frozen in horror for the rest of time. The sight was sickening enough that Quill hadn’t even suggested pilfering the abandoned ship. Death had knocked on their door, and he wasn’t just about to invite it inside.

Then they’d found _him._

Near-death, stuck on their windshield. Near-death, but still _alive._

Crap.

Gamora stepped beside him.

“I think I know him.”

Double crap.

“Come again?”

“He was taken in by my—By Thanos,” she muttered, kicking her foot against the wall, “Seems like he’s making it a habit of falling through the galaxy.”

“Huh.” Quill put elegantly.

Great. This was just great. Not only had he all of the above to deal with, but now apparently the not-dead corpse was someone that Thanos – the absolute _dick_ – had pissed off. And, if Gamora recognized them, then they would certainly recognize her which, if push comes to shove, would probably end up turning the not-dead corpse into a dead-dead corpse.

_Mondays._

“Thanos greeted him with the usual : torture, starvation, the complete and utter destruction of self,” she shrugged, “And sent him off to conquer—”

Gamora trailed off.

“No no no,” Quill waved his hand in the air, encouraging her to continue because how could this possibly get worse than it already was? “Go on. Where did he send him off to? Was it Xandar? Berhert? Don’t tell me it was Centauri IV?”

“Worse,” she said, “Your home planet.”

Oh. That’s how.

“Wait, wait, wait, excuse me?! What? Hold up a second,” Quill stammered and took a step backwards, placing his hands on his hips in a _most offended_ manner, “How is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Didn’t think it was—” he laughed, “Okay. Okay! That’s cool. We’re just casually housing the guy who went all murder-rampage-y on my planet. Cool, cool, cool. Hey, you know what? Mantis, go wake him up. I have something to say.”

Mantis dropped the kitten calendar she was holding, startled.

“What?”

“It’s nothing really. I just wanna have a few words with the guy who had the nerve to do a live-action remake of War of the Worlds, is all,” he shrugged, all nonchalant and totally not pissed the hell off, “No big.”

“But—”

“Besides,” Quill added, “The sooner we wake him up, the sooner we can find out what happened to him.”

Mantis stared at him. Her antennae moved and lit up, tasting the air no doubt of all the emotions clouding it, before placing her hands on either side of the not-dead corpse’s temples.

The man bolted up with a wheezing gasp, clutching his throat. His eyes darted about — frantic, feral, frenzied — until they landed straight on Gamora.

Within a flash, he was on his feet.

“Daughter of Thanos,” the stranger sneered, a dagger that’d somehow missed their initial inspections manifesting in his hand and pressed against Gamora’s stomach, “We meet again.”

Gamora lifted her chin.

“Asgardian.”

“My name is Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard and Rightful King of Jotunheim.”

Groot lifted his head from the video game he was playing.

“I am Groot.”

“And I’m Starlord, Captain of the Guardians of the Galaxy and the dude who just happened to, I don’t know, rescue you,” Quill pulled out his weapon and aimed it straight at Loki’s smarmy, royal, handsomely sharp-cheekboned face, “So, _Ass_ -guardian. How about we just chill?”

But the soon-to-be ultra-dead corpse ignored him.

“Your allegiance. . . wavered,” Loki said, “Have you finally broken free from his grasp?”

Gamora’s eyes narrowed.

“No man has ever had their grasp on me.”

And she emphasized her point.

Literally.

With her own dagger pressed firmly into his gut.

“Yeah! That’s my girl!” Quill exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air before realizing, “Wait—”

Loki smirked, and magicked away his dagger.

“Starlord, you said your name was,” he finally turned and faced him, raising his hands into the air _the handsome bastard,_ “Galaxy Guardian.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Quill re-centered his weapon so that it was pointed straight between Loki’s gorgeous green eyes that sparkled like literal emeralds—okay, was there anything not freakin’ hot about him? Maybe Quill should start slicking back his hair. “Now, if you could be so kind as to, y’know, explain to me what the hell is going on? Starting with how you ended up smooshed against our windshield.”

“Thanos.”

Quill’s blood chilled.

“He stormed my ship, slaughtered half my people, killed Th—” he looked away, “. . . And now, he has his hands on two Infinity Stones. Does that satisfy your curiosity _, Starlord?_ ”

“Oh.”

Quill lowered his weapon and ran his hand through his hair.

“Well. . . shit.”

 

* * *

 

“He attacked Xandar. . . decimated its people. He must’ve already been on his way to Asgard when he found us. Only half our people escaped,” Loki said, staring into his bowl of soup, “Heimdall went to Earth. If he doesn’t survive, the Valkyrie can warn the Avengers of Thanos’ arrival to keep the stones safe.”

“The Avengers?” Quill asked.

“Earth’s mightiest heroes.”

“Ahh! A mighty name for mighty warriors!” Drax boomed, crossing his arms over his bulging chest, “Why aren’t we called that?”

“Because we already have a name,” Quill gestured outwards, “We’re the Guardians of the Galaxy! What do they have that we don’t?”

“Captain America,” Loki brought the spoon to his mouth.

“See? They only have Cap—wait, did you say Captain America?” he quickly backtracked, mouth hanging shamelessly agape, “The Captain America?! I had his action figure as a kid. You’re telling me he’s alive?”

“Unless there’s someone else that fights with a star-spangled shield and a giant letter ‘A’ plastered across his forehead, then yes.”

“Oh my God,” Quill whispered, “You fought against Captain America.”

Loki raised a brow.

“I did try to conquer Earth, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll get back to that later,” he waved his hand, “But you fought against Captain America! He punched Hitler like—like a bajillion times!”

“A bajillion times?” Mantis gasped.

“A bajillion!”

“It is settled then!” Drax laughed heartily, “We shall be called the Avengers of the Galaxy, in the name of the honorable warrior Captain of the America!”

“Ooo, the Avengers of the Galaxy,” Rocket said, “I like that.”

“It kicks major butt!” Mantis pumped her fists in the air.

“Wait, no. No!” Quill interrupted, “We already have a name—”

“I kind of like it,” Gamora said.

“I am Groot.”

“We’re not changing the name!” Quill stamped his foot, all cool and mature-like because dammit he was the captain and he made the choices around here! “Alright, okay. Okay! Who else is in these ‘Avengers’ and, if they’re so awesome, where are they now? Huh? Why don’t you answer me that, Loki?”

Loki dropped his spoon into the bowl and set it aside.

“My brother used to be one of them,” he stood up, “Thor, God of Thunder. . . King of Asgard.”

“Oh yeah?” Quill put his hands on his hips, “And where is he?”

“Dead.”

Oh.

Rocket cackled.

“Smooth one, Quill,” he hopped onto the table and punched his shoulder, “Why don’t you kick him in the nuts while he’s down. Ooooh, or put him in a headlock and noogie him to death so he can join his brother! Y’know the dead one.”

“Okay, Rocket. I got it.”

“And while you’re at it, how about you take off your boot and eat it, because you just put your foot,” he wheezed, slapping his knee, “Straight into your mouth.”

“That would take a serious amount of contorting,” Drax said.

“No, that’s not what he—that’s not what he meant,” Quill paced back and forth, “Does anyone have any Calurnian coffee? Just the tiniest cup. That’s all I need.”

“You are very flexible.”

“I’m not—okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, alright?! I’m sorry to hear about your bro, dude,” he groaned, rubbing his hands down his face and facing Loki, “So, what do we do now?”

“You take your boot,” Rocket mimed with his hands, “Put it in a pot—”

“Not that! About Thanos!” he exclaimed, “We have to stop him.”

“There is no stopping him,” Loki said quietly, “It’s too late.”

Quill came to a hard stop.

“Look, we might not be the Avengers,” he poked a finger into Loki’s chest—holy shit, it was so _firm_ , “We might not be Earth’s mightiest heroes. We might not be Captain America or Thor. But you know what we are?"

“A couple of insensitive assholes?” Rocket rolled his eyes.

“Yes! No,” Quill glared over his shoulder, “No, we’re the Guardians of the freakin’ Galaxy!”

He turned back to Loki, standing tall and strong.

“We defeated Ronan. We held an Infinity Stone in the palm of our hand. We fought a planet and won!” he faltered, “Well, technically that was my dad. Long story—"

“You stood against the Accuser?” Loki’s eyes widened a fraction, but quickly shook his head, “He doesn’t compare—”

“No, he doesn’t,” Gamora interrupted, stepping in between them, “But we need to try. Or everything I’ve done—everything _we’ve_ done would’ve been for nothing.”

Loki fell quiet.

“Is he stoppable?” he asked, looking her in the eye, “I am a Liesmith. I spin silver from my tongue. My trust does not come easily; however, in this instance I choose to trust the word of a Daughter of Thanos. _Is he stoppable?_ ”

Gamora rolled back her shoulders.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll try,” Loki smiled bitterly, “What else do we have to lose?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Rocket huffed, “Our lives?”

“Ignore him. That’s what I do,” Quill waved his hand at him, of which Rocket smacked away, “So, if Thanos already has the Space and Power stones, where will he go next? Earth?”

“No, that’ll be his final destination. He underestimated Earth’s heroes and stubbornness once. He won’t make the same mistake twice,” Loki said, “No, he’s going Knowhere.”

“He must be going somewhere,” Rocket grumbled.

“No, he means Knowhere,” Quill interrupted, “We’ve been there. It sucks.”

“I’ve never been there,” Mantis said.

“It’s a wonderful place!” Drax punched his fist into his open palm, “A warrior’s paradise! Plenty of faces to smash!”

“Ooooh!” Mantis raised her hands into the air, “I want to go to the place of smash-facing!”

“There is a stone in the hands of the Collector,” Loki ignored them, “And since no one knows where the Soul Stone is located, that’s where he’ll go.”

He grabbed a bag hanging off the Captain’s chair — _Quill’s_ chair — and started shoving whatever he could find into it. Food, supplies, weapons. He was lucky he was pretty, otherwise Quill would’ve made a fuss.

“So, we’re going to Knowhere then.”

“No. You’re going to Knowhere,” Loki drawled, “I’m going to Nidavellir.”

“That’s a made-up word!” said Drax.

“All words are made up.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re going to Nidavellir? The place of legendary, ass-kicking weapons of ultimate badassery,” Rocket gaped and promptly jumped off the table, grabbing his gun, “Y’all can get your asses whooped on Knowhere. I’m going with Mr. Royal over here.”

“I am Groot.”

“Of course, you can come too,” Loki responded.

Rocket’s head whirled around.

“You can understand him?”

Loki merely quirked up a brow.

“Ohhh, I like you,” Rocket cackled and smacked his leg as he walked past, heading towards the Escape Pod, “S’long losers! Have fun dying! I’m getting me a new stabbing machine.”

“You mean knives?” Gamora asked.

“I said what I said.”

Loki shoved the last of their food rations into his pack and headed to the Escape Pod; but, Quill grabbed his shoulder before he could leave.

“So, you go to Nidavellir. Grab some ass-kicking weapons and whatnot, and we go to Knowhere. Grab the Stone before Thanos can,” Quill met his eyes, “Then what?”

“Then, if we make it out alive, we make our rendezvous point on Earth,” Loki said, “If we gather enough stones, rally enough allies, then maybe. . . maybe the universe might not be so lost.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then I’ll be seeing Thor sooner than I thought.”

 


	3. III. GROOT

Loki and Quill had reached an understanding. Quill took Gamora, Drax, and Mantis with him to Knowhere to seek out the Collector, and shortly after their departure, Loki had Rocket set them on a course for Nidavellir.

Rocket was at the helm now, attempting to silence complaints from a very bored and whiny Groot.

“Are we getting any closer?” he asked Loki, thoroughly exasperated.

Loki finally turned back towards Rocket, tearing his gaze from where it had been fixed on the vastness of space.

“You’ll know when we’re close,” he told Rocket knowingly, gradually moving across the cockpit. “The Forge of Nidavellir harnesses the blazing power of a neutron star.”

He trailed off, suddenly looking wistful as he took a seat opposite Rocket and Groot.

“It was the birthplace of my brother’s hammer,” he admitted quietly. “Its power was...unparalleled.”

Rocket turned in his chair, seeing the expression on Loki’s face. Gone was his usual veneer of elegance and confidence, and beneath the chink in the armor he could see vulnerability...and grief.

He sighed softly to himself.

“Okay…” he murmured. “Time to be the captain.”

Setting the ship to autopilot, he hopped down from his seat and began to approach Loki.

“So...dead brother, huh?” he broached the subject. “Yeah...that’s rough, pal.”

Loki nodded. 

“He’s never been dead before,” he mused, before immediately realizing how odd that sounded. “That is to say, I was. Dead, I mean. But I came back.”

Rocket looked momentarily confused, but shrugged his shoulders; deciding against questioning it.

“It’s just...being on the other side of it,” Loki clarified. “There are no words for it.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Though, I lost my father as well,” he added. “And my sister.”

He knew deep down what the difference was, in both cases. He had never been as close to Odin, much less Hela, as he had been to Thor.

Rocket looked genuinely sympathetic.

“You still got a mom, though?” he wondered.

Loki took a slow, deep breath.

“Dead,” he confessed. “She was killed by a Dark Elf.”

That was my fault, too.

“A best friend?” Rocket offered.

For a moment, Loki almost laughed. None of the Asgardians had ever really been his friends, not even the Warriors Three...except for Thor. 

It was simpler for him to merely shake his head in response.

Rocket frowned, understanding for the first time how deep grief and loss were rooted in Loki’s life, and how losing his brother had only added to the turmoil.

“...You sure you’re up for this particular murder mission?” he asked, as delicately as he could manage.

Loki lifted his head to meet Rocket’s gaze again. All at once, that steely, debonair attitude slid back into place, though even as he spoke there was an unmistakable glimmer of truth behind his eyes.

“Believe me,” he said. “Nothing would make me happier than to slide a blade through the ribs of the Mad Titan who murdered my brother.”

“Yeah, but I mean, this is Thanos we’re talking about,” Rocket pointed out. “He’s gonna put up a big damn fight.”

“Well, he’s never fought me before,” Loki replied simply.

“Yes, he has.”

“He’s never fought me twice.”

In saying so, Loki gave a commonplace wicked grin.

“Besides,” he went on. “Nidavellir is the one place where I can procure a weapon equal in measure to Mjolnir.”

“Mew-mew?” Rocket echoed back, and Loki struggled not to roll his eyes.

“Thor’s hammer,” he corrected.

Rocket whistled softly.

“That must have been some hammer.”

Once again, Loki had to crack a smile. “You have no idea.”

He tried not to let his mind linger too long on the thought of Mjolnir; the weapon he was never worthy of. That he would never be worthy of.

“I’ve done many things that I’m not proud of,” he admitted. “I’ve lied, and manipulated, and stabbed people who trusted me in the back; sometimes in a very literal sense. I tried to conquer Earth. Hundreds have died by my hand. Why should Thanos be any different?”

Rocket was silent for a long moment, processing Loki’s words.

“And what if you’re wrong?”

Loki paused, considering the weight of that question. 

“...What do I have left to lose?” he answered.

Silence hung heavy in the air between them, as Loki once again got to his feet.

“I mean, personally, I could lose a lot,” Rocket muttered, too low for Loki to hear.

Loki seated himself beside Groot, whose attention was still fixed squarely on his video game. 

“Looks like we’re here,” Rocket announced, as he made his way over to hop back into the pilot’s seat.

Loki squinted, peering out through the ship’s window.

“That can’t be right,” he observed. “It’s far too dark.”

But even as he spoke, he could see the shape of the Forge looming ahead of them in the distance.

He could tell right away that something was terribly wrong.

Rising to his feet, he swiftly moved to stand beside Rocket, peering as close to the window as he could.

“The star....it’s gone out,” he breathed in astonishment.

As Rocket flew their craft closer, further into the depths of the Forge, it became clearer and clearer how dilapidated it had become. Loki’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. It was a far cry from its former glory.

What had happened here?

Rocket soon found a place to land their ship, muttering to himself as he did so.

“Hope these dwarves are better at Forging than they are at cleaning.”

Loki merely glanced in his direction, but said nothing. For the first time, Groot looked up from his video game -- staring directly at Loki.

“I am Groot.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, surprised at the sudden display of empathy from the young Flora.

“I am Groot,” Groot continued, as he finally started to get to his feet. 

Watching Groot as he made his way over to join Rocket, Loki turned the sentiment over in his mind before he nodded in agreement.

“It’s going to be alright,” he affirmed, following until he stood by Groot’s side. “I’m sure of it.”

The three of them stepped out of the ship, venturing into the hollow shell that was once the great Forge of Nidavellir.

As they walked, Groot almost immediately took his game out again and continued playing it, barely looking up as Rocket led the way.

“What happened?” Rocket wondered aloud. “Did they just up and realize that they were living in a junk pile in the far reaches of space?”

Loki paid Rocket no mind, his gaze scanning their surroundings for any possible trace, any clue that would betray who or what had done this.

“This Forge has not gone dark in over a century,” he informed Rocket grimly. 

The pieces were already beginning to connect in his mind, but he had to be sure.

Then he saw it. The proof that he needed.

Even as his eyes landed upon it, his blood ran cold. A huge mould, matching the exact size, shape, and design of Thanos’ gauntlet. The gauntlet he used to wield the Infinity Stones.

“By the Norns…”

Rocket and Groot saw what he was staring at, and exchanged a knowing look.

“I am Groot,” Groot murmured in shock.

“Groot,” Loki said softly. “You should go back to the pod. It’s not safe here --”

He had scarcely finished his sentence when a shape moved in the darkness. Loki wheeled towards it, and before he could so much as call out, the shape began to charge towards them.

As it emerged from the shadows, it became clear that the figure was a dwarf -- a giant, towering dwarf with long hair and hands made of metal. He let out a roar as he charged at them, ready for a fight.

Stepping in front of Groot and Rocket, Loki threw his hands up to stop the dwarf -- recognizing him.

“Eitri, no!” he cried out. “Stop!”

Upon hearing his name, the dwarf did indeed stop in his tracks, looking down at Loki with surprise.

“...Loki?”

Loki nodded, and slowly lowered his hands.

“What happened here, Eitri?”

Eitri took a step back, and for a moment he looked almost as if he were about to cry.

“Your brother and your father were supposed to protect us,” he said. “Asgard was supposed to protect us!”

“My brother and my father are dead,” Loki said, looking deeply apologetic and he held Eitri’s gaze. “And Asgard is gone. Destroyed.”

Realization dawned on Eitri, and he shrank away, if only slightly. Loki only moved closer, gesturing towards the mould of the gauntlet that stood mere feet away from them.

“Eitri...I’m sorry that we weren’t there to protect you,” Loki pressed on. “I truly am. But I must know for myself what was done here so that I might avenge my brother’s death. Tell me, please.”

Eitri once again met Loki’s eyes, looking deeply ashamed. Slowly, he sat down in front of him, leaning against the nearest wall. Rocket and Groot stepped forward again, standing on either side of Loki as Eitri finally spoke again.

“Three hundred dwarves lived on this ridge,” he murmured. “Three hundred dwarves...and Thanos came to me. He asked me to make him a weapon, capable of harnessing the power of the Stones. I thought that if I did what he asked, no harm would come to the others.”

His voice almost broke, and he shook his head.

“He killed all of them. Every last one...but me.”

He lifted his metal hands, showing them to Loki and his comrades.

“This is what he gave me instead.”

Eitri’s words hung in the air for one sickening moment, and a shudder ran down Loki’s spine.

Drawing a breath, Loki took another step towards Eitri, and spoke again.

“Thanos took everything from you,” he said. “That’s what he does. But this is not the end of you, Eitri. This is not the end of your skills. Every weapon you’ve ever designed, they’re all still inside your head. If we work together, we can show him that he did not break you. If you help me, if you let me help you...we will kill Thanos.”

Eitri held Loki’s gaze for a long moment, and then his expression settled into one of sheer determination.

“Come,” he said, as he dragged himself back onto his feet. “Follow me.”

~

Eitri led Loki, Groot, and Rocket deep into the Forge, until they found exactly what they were looking for. At first glance, it appeared to be unassuming -- a thin, square bolt of stone.

“That’s the plan? We’re gonna hit Thanos with a brick?” Rocket asked incredulously.

Eitri was unfazed. “It’s a mould,” he explained. “For a King’s weapon.”

Loki lifted his head, looking over at Eitri with pointed interest.

“It was meant to be the greatest weapon in all of Asgard, and perhaps all of the Nine Realms combined,” Eitri went on. “In theory, it could even summon the Bifrost.”

“Did it have a name?” Loki asked breathlessly.

Eitri looked over at Loki, and for the first time, the ghost of a smile played on the edges of his mouth.

“Stormbreaker.”

Rocket scoffed. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Loki immediately shushed him, still looking at Eitri.

“How do we make it?” he asked, with a touch too much enthusiasm.

“We’ll have to awaken the Forge,” Eitri replied. “Restart the heart of a dying star.”

Loki’s gaze flickered over towards the Forge, and the wheels began to turn in his mind.

~

“You sure about this?” Rocket asked.

He and Loki stood beneath the centre of the Forge itself; where the core had frozen over and was now encased in solid ice. 

For the briefest of moments, Loki hesitated. He swallowed thickly.

“You know, we could just use the pod,” Rocket suggested, before trailing off. “But then again, that’s an extremely stupid idea.”

Loki cracked a small smile, glancing over at Rocket.

“It is,” he agreed. “Though it’s what my brother would do.”

At the thought of Thor, his smile faded again, and he was seized with the profound feeling that all of this was wrong. It should be Thor standing here at the Forge, Thor who would forge and wield a weapon as mighty as Stormbreaker, Thor who would stand against Thanos and win.

None of this had ever been meant for him. And yet, there he stood, nonetheless.

Knowing Thor, even his most foolish of plans would always work for him. But for Loki...he always had a more elegant solution.

“I have to try,” he told Rocket. “And if it doesn’t work...then we’ll try the pod.”

In spite of himself, Rocket snickered. 

“Then do your thing, Alakazam.”

With that, he took several steps back as Loki closed his eyes and trained all of his focus on the centre of the Forge.

He reached out his hands towards it, and in his mind’s eye he visualized the ice that surrounded the Forge’s core beginning to crack and splinter. 

It became so real in his mind that he almost began to hear the sound of the ice cracking, almost felt the broken chips of ice falling around him. 

From somewhere deep within him, he could hear the voices of his mother’s brethren; the mages of the eras long since past, whispering dark and secret spells only to him, the last of their kind.

Within the deluge of voices growing louder and louder, Loki could hone in on one single voice.

You are my son, Frigga whispered. You will always be my son.

He threw his arms out wide on either side of him, and the ice that surrounded the core shattered into thousands of pieces.

The ice rained down over his head, but by the time they reached him they were little more than scattering snowflakes in the wind.

He opened his eyes, and stopped dead for a moment. His hands had gone pale blue.

But he couldn’t stop there, not yet. He closed his eyes once again, and this time envisioned the Forge, in its full scale; as if he were looking down on it from the cosmos. He imagined it as small as a child’s toy, fitting easily into his hands. His fingers danced along the edges of the Forge’s rings, and everywhere his fingertips touched, he cleaned the dust and dirt from it and restored it to perfect working order.

His hands gently touched the Forge’s rings, and they began to move again.

He watched it grow and grow all around him until it had returned to its full size, and his eyes opened again.

Before his eyes, the Forge’s centre began to glow with light, as the rings clicked into place.

As he returned to full awareness, with his arms still spread wide from his sides, Loki began to laugh with sheer delight. He had done it. Using only his magic alone, he had reawoken the heart of a dying star.

“Holy shit!!” Rocket exclaimed. “You actually pulled it off!”

“I am Groot!” Groot added in celebration.

“Well done, boy,” Eitri breathed, watching in sheer awe.

As he slowly lowered his arms, Loki turned towards Rocket and Groot, and he gestured grandly up towards the now-brightly burning star that powered the Forge.

“That, my friend,” he told Rocket. “Is Nidavellir.”

As he scampered closer, Rocket couldn’t help but look as amazed as everyone else.

They watched as sheer light and power began to erupt from the star, streaming towards the opening of the Forge...when suddenly, the mouth of the Forge’s gate stuttered, and closed, unable to let the light from the star in.

“No…” Loki breathed, moving towards the edge of the ridge, as close to the star as he could get without jumping off the edge entirely.

“Damn it,” Eitri muttered. “The mechanism is crippled. With the iris closed, I can’t heat the metal.”

Loki stared up at the iris, grounding himself where he stood.

Think, Loki, think. What would Thor do?

And then it hit him. Exactly what Thor would do in this situation.

It was a terrible idea, and he knew it, and yet he was already reaching out with the tendrils of his magic.

“How long will it take to heat the metal, Eitri?” he asked.

“A few minutes, maybe more. Why?”

Loki was rooted to the spot, staring unblinking towards the Forge’s iris.

“I’m going to hold it open.”

Eitri stiffened with shock. “That’s suicide.”

“So is moving against Thanos without this weapon,” Loki pointed out. His voice was devoid of inflection, and he trained all of his focus on the iris. His feet were already beginning to lift off of the ground.

Even with his eyes still open, he was visualizing that iris growing smaller and smaller, until he could easily open it, and keep it open, with a single finger; wearing it like a ring.

He levitated higher and higher off the ground, moving closer and closer to the mouth of Forge.

Mages of the Vanir, give me strength.

“Do you understand?” Eitri called out to Loki, even through his trance. “Even with your magic, you’re about to take the full force of a star. It will kill you.”

Loki only smirked. “We’ll see.”

He was now hovering in midair, directly in front of the Forge’s iris. He reached out his hands, his magic pushing open the iris with ease -- and unleashing the star’s full power, allowing it to heat the metal of the Forge.

Even from a distance, the heat was almost unbearable. Loki had to close his eyes to shield them from the sheer blinding light of the star, and he grit his teeth as he channelled all of his magic and his strength to hold the iris open. 

Despite what many had thought, he was not made of ice; he would not melt. He would not burn. 

In the blazing force of a heat that could melt down any metal, he had to become something even stronger than that.

Stronger than iron. Stronger than steel. Stronger than vibranium.

When he opened his eyes again they were glowing, blazing blue, and he screamed.

Rage against the dying of the light.

When he could sense that he had done it, that Eitri had what he needed, Loki let go, and he fell.

He careened down through empty space, and landed at the edge of the ridge, where Rocket and Groot were awaiting him.

Groot gasped, his face the picture of concern, as Rocket rushed to Loki’s side.

“Loki?” Rocket asked, shaking him as he searched for signs of life. “Say something! Loki, are you okay?”

Nearby, Eitri broke open the mould that he had filled with the fruits of Loki’s labor, and out of the mould fell the pieces of Stormbreaker: two parts of an axe.

“I think he’s dying!” Rocket exclaimed.

“He needs the axe,” Eitri gasped out. “Where is the handle?!”

He began to desperately sift through his supplies, trying to find a handle for the axe. 

Groot’s eyes found the pieces of the axe. He looked back over towards Loki’s lifeless form, and then moved towards the incomplete weapon decisively.

Reaching out an arm, Groot’s hands became tendrils, snaking out to seize the pieces of the axe and bind them together. Groot winced against the heat, but still pressed on. 

The axe became a part of him, and he raised his arm up in triumph, before he brought his free arm down and snapped the other in twain. 

He would regrow his arm, within minutes. But now, the axe had a handle.

Where he lay on the ground, Loki’s hand began to twitch.

Then it opened, and the axe lifted off the ground, hovering in the air.

Loki reached out towards it.


	4. IV. GAMORA

She was a failure.

As much as she’d like to have pretended otherwise, it really hadn’t come as much of a shock. She’d known it. Gamora had known it. Father had known it. There was a reason why she had a reputation as the _other_ daughter of Thanos.

So, when she’d tried to sneak in a fast one on the Mad Titan and help him along into the grave with a quick decapitation, had anyone on this ship really been surprised that she’d ended up in chains?

Nebula didn’t know what she’d been thinking.

Maybe… maybe for once, she’d thought that the universe would‘ve shined kindly upon her. 

But that was never in the stars for her, now was it?

After all, the galaxy had always favored _Gamora_.

Gamora the Golden Child. Gamora, Thanos’ Favorite. Gamora the Most Dangerous Woman in the Universe. 

Nebula was just the spare parts.

Every time Gamora beat her, an upgrade. Every failure, another new part. Every time she tried to rise up from the long, dark shadow her sister cast upon her and shine with her own fiersome light, another a part of her was ripped out and _replaced_.

She had been whole once. A long time ago, she’d just been a girl with an artificial heart.

But now, electricity pumped through her veins where blood had once been. Gone was the girl with an artificial heart, replaced with the exoskeleton of a broken woman. 

At least she still had her soul. Thanos had taken everything else from her, but she still had that. However, sometimes she wondered when the time would come when Thanos would take that from her too. 

_Just another routine upgrade._

The doors to her cell opened.

“Nebula,” Gamora whispered, “What have they done to you?”

Of course it was Gamora. Gamora, the puppet who had freed herself from Thanos’ strings. Gamora who could probably slit Thanos’ throat and stab him in the heart successfully instead of being locked up in chains. Gamora the Guardian of the Galaxy.

There had once been a time where these thoughts would have angered Nebula. 

But now…

Now, she was just _afraid_. 

_What are you doing here?_

“Don’t do this,” Nebula felt Gamora grip her arm, “Please.”

“Some time ago,” Thanos lingered in the doorway, watching Gamora’s every move even though Nebula — ripped apart at the seams — hung right there in front of him, “Your sister snuck aboard this ship to kill me, and very nearly succeeded.”

_Lying, Father? You and I both know that I never even came close._

“So, I brought her here,” he continued, “To talk.”

_What a **touching** heart-to-heart then. It’s almost as if you—_

Thanos clenched his hand into a fist.

The gauntlet reflected the electricity coursing through Nebula’s body as he pulled her apart. It glistened and glowed. It was almost… beautiful.

Somewhere far off, she heard a woman screaming. 

Gamora’s hand left her.

And soon, so did the screaming.

_..Why... am I so… tired?_

Gamora reentered her line of sight. Her hand touched her cheek.

“Sister…”

There were tears in her eyes. Tears, and something _more_. 

_...Gamora..._

Her sister whirled on their Father.

“I swear to you on my life!” Gamora’s voice warbled, “I never found the Soul Stone.”

Nebula heard her own voice responding.

“Accessing memory files.”

_Gamora, I’m sorry. I didn’t betray you. I didn’t. **I didn’t.**_

“You know what he’s about to do,” she remembered this conversation, “He’s finally ready, and he’s going for the stones. All of them.”

“He’ll never get them all,” the recording of Gamora responded coldly as the real Gamora listened on, frozen.

“He will!”

“He can’t, Nebula!” Gamora’s recording whirled on her, eyes hardened into stone, “Because I found the map to the Soul Stone and I burned it to ash. I. Burned. It.”

The screaming returned.

But somehow, the woman seemed closer. 

Nebula hoped that whatever was happening to her, whatever torture that woman must be enduring, that it would end soon. Perhaps, death would come and relieve her of life’s misery.

Her version turned black.

But before she lost herself to the abyss, she heard Gamora whisper one word:

“Vormir.”

 

* * *

 

“Awaken, Daughter.”

Nebula didn’t want to. Not if it meant more pain and, if she was with Thanos, then it probably would be… and _more._

Maybe if she just pretended—

No, he would know. He always knew.

Nebula opened her eyes. 

“There you are,” Thanos leaned back and hoisted himself up from his crouched position, “Come. There is work to be done.”

“Work?”

Nebula took in her surroundings. 

They weren’t in her cell anymore.

Her hands were free. No weapons, of course. Not after what she had done — or rather, what she had tried to do. They might not have been anywhere familiar, not even on the main ship, but they were still on _a_ ship nonetheless. One that was opened out onto a volcanic wasteland of death and cosmic ash. A lone mountain loomed in the distance.

Her spine had been replaced with a cybernetic one long ago, but she could still feel shivers traveling down it. 

Nebula didn’t move.

“Where is Gamora?”

“Ah,” Thanos hummed, as thoughtful as a mad sociopath could possibly be, “She has taken your place, as you have taken hers. I have what I needed from her. But, just in case she decided to finish what you started…”

“You made us become each others hostage,” Nebula sneered. 

So… he also thought that Gamora possessed the ability to send him to an early grave and that Nebula?

Nebula did not.

At least they were were in agreement about _something._

“In a sense, yes,” Thanos extended his hand to her, “But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

Nebula smacked his hand away.

“Pity,” he hummed, grabbing her wrist and forcing her to her feet, “But we have no time to waste.”

 

* * *

 

“Thanos, Son of Alars.”

Nebula staggered backwards into the stone wall. 

She didn’t understand what was going on. She didn’t understand what purpose she served. She didn’t understand what this— this _thing_ was before her because, whatever it was, it was a being that wasn’t supposed to be here. Its entire existence felt _wrong_ , like a scar upon the universe. 

It looked upon her.

“Nebula, Daughter of Thanos.”

She tasted vomit in her mouth.

She wanted to run. Everything, cybernetics and flesh in union, screamed for her to run and never look back. This was a cursed place. This was where dreams came to die. 

But like the creature said, she was a Daughter of Thanos.

And Daughters of Thanos did not run.

“You know us.” Nebula whispered, not so much a question but a confirmation.

“It is my curse to know all who journey here,” the creature spoke, “Those who seek treasures beyond their wildest imagination.”

“The Soul Stone,” Thanos confirmed.

“Yes,” the creature nodded, mournful in tone and tired… oh, so very _tired_ , “But you should know… it extracts a terrible price.”

Nebula almost snorted.

Thanos had been preparing for decades for this moment. His entire life’s mission was to find the Infinity Stones and bring balance to the universe; and, he had fashioned her and Gamora into the perfect specimens to find them.

Well, Gamora at least.

“I am prepared,” Thanos rolled back his shoulders, “Whatever the cost, I will… endure.”

The specter laughed, a bittersweet and self-deprecating _laugh._

It floated closer to them. The stench of death and gasoline followed, permeating the air with its foul odor that Nebula near choked. The creature pulled back its hooded cloak, unveiling a red Death’s Head to the world, and frowned.

Nebula felt the urge to run again.

“We all think that at first,” it said, “We are all wrong.”

 

* * *

 

Nebula would’ve never called herself reluctant. You could call her many things — a failure, a disappointment, a waste of time and parts — but a coward wasn’t one of them. She was always the first person to take on a dangerous mission. She was the first to charge into battle. She was the first to take the hit, to raise the gun. The first to fall. But she was not a _coward._

But in this moment… she reconsidered.

“How is it that you know this place so well?” Thanos asked.

The specter led them through the dilapidated courtyard, between two stone pillars that looked more like a gateway than the last remaining ruins of an ancient city. Maybe it was. She hoped it wasn’t.

“A lifetime ago… I, too, sought the stones,” it replied and stopped, considering, “I even held one in my hand. I remember the power coursing through me: the savagery… and the beauty of its chaos.”

The creature shook its head and continued forward.

“But it cast me out, banished me here,” it said, “Guiding others to a treasure I cannot possess.”

The specter stopped at the precipice of a massive cliff; however, it wasn’t jagged or worn away like one would expect. This was carved. A perfect half circle, a platform, to the great beyond. 

All you had to do was jump.

“What you seek lies in front of you. As is what you fear.”

Nebula looked over the cliff and felt once more the urge to vomit.

A perfect mimicry of the courtyard they stood on.

“What is the meaning of this?” Nebula clenched her hands into fists, “Tell me.”

“This… is the price. The soul holds a special place among the Infinity Stones,” the specter rolled around its head, “You might say it has a certain wisdom.”

“And what is the price?”

“To ensure that whoever possesses it understands its power, the stone demands a sacrifice,” it looked at Thanos directly now, “In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. A soul… for a soul.”

This time, Nebula _actually_ snorted.

“Bet you wished you brought Gamora now,” she sneered, her hands relaxing at her sides, “All that time… all that wasted effort and planning.”

Nebula stepped away from the ledge.

“Instead of bringing your favorite daughter with you, you locked her away and brought me instead. Me. Not Gamora. Not the Most Dangerous Woman in the Universe. Me. The other Daughter of Thanos. _The scraps._ The one who could never live up to Gamora’s greatness. The one who tried and tried again to gain your favor… the one who _actually wanted_ you to love her like a daughter,” her raspy voice cracked for a moment, “And it's too late now.”

Nebula stomped over and sneered as Thanos dropped to his knees.

He wouldn’t even look at her.

Good.

“Knowing her, she’s probably escaped already,” she rubbed salt in the wound, unable to help herself now that she’d started, “Because you trained her to be the best.”

Nebula looked at her hands.

She closed her fingers one by one into a loose fist and opened them again. 

“Remember when you replaced these because you didn’t find them efficient enough to strangle,” Nebula whispered, “At least, not as well as Gamora could.”

She ran her hands over her bald head.

“Remember when you replaced half my brain with a machine. Remember when you tore out my spine? My lungs? My legs? My eye?”

Nebula dropped her arms to her side and rolled back her shoulders, tilting her head to the side.

“Every time you took a part of me, I died. Do you know what that’s like, Father?” her voice was cold, artificial, “You get used to it. But now… when a death is needed…”

She smiled, wide and manic… and _free._  

“You can’t give me up.”

Thanos didn’t move.

Nebula stepped in front of him and grabbed the top of his head, forcing it back.

“Even now, you can’t even look at me—”

She froze.

“Tears?” Nebula leaned closer and pressed a finger against the corner of his eyes, “You should probably get those ducts removed, Father. What was it said when you removed mine?”

She leaned back.

“They show weakness.”

Thanos stood. 

“Nebula.”

His voice warbled. 

Nebula’s smile died.

“No,” she stepped back, “It won’t work— you can’t—”

“Daughter—”

“I am not your daughter!” Nebula shouted, “Gamora was your daughter! There was nothing left for me. You didn’t love me. You never did.”

“I did what I did,” Thanos’ hand closed around her shoulder and lifted her into his arms, “Because I wanted you to succeed. I wanted to help you grow. I wanted you to be better. And you were… Daughter.”

“…Father…” 

He loved her. 

Maybe… maybe everything would be okay. Maybe he wouldn’t throw her away. Not this time. Maybe… for once, she wouldn’t have to sacrifice another part of herself for his love and attention.

But as she tumbled off the cliff, she knew that wasn’t true.


	5. V. STRANGE

Stephen Strange never thought that he would have ended up in this situation. 

In the span of a single day, he had fought a group of aliens, been captured and tortured by those same aliens, been rescued by Tony Stark, of all people, and was now on a deserted planet with Stark, as well as a high school student and a completely different ragtag team of aliens (well, mostly aliens) as they tried to put together a plan to move against Thanos. 

Thus far, Stark had done little save for snipe back and forth with Quill, the self-appointed ‘leader’ of the little band, and the only ostensibly ‘human’ one among them. Quill’s companions -- Drax, who was mostly muscle and very little brains, and Mantis, the soft-spoken, insect-like woman who likely didn’t realize what exactly she had to offer yet -- also didn’t have much to add, at least on the subject of the matter at hand. 

As for Peter Parker, the teenage boy who had accompanied Stark on this mission quite by accident, Strange got the distinct feeling that he was in over his head.

Breathing a sigh, Strange elected to leave the others to their discourse for the moment, finding a spot nearby to retreat into meditation. 

In a situation like this, where the stakes were this high, the only way to know for sure how to proceed was to look forward in time -- see all of the potential futures, and isolate the timeline with the best outcome.

With a gesture of his hands, Strange opened the Eye of Agamotto, accessing the power of the Time Stone.

~

Snap. Dead.

Snap. Dead.

He had seen it happen, thousands of times, thousands of different ways. It always seemed so inevitable.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

The loop had to stop. It had to be broken, somehow, some way.

He pressed further, forward and forward and forward.

He latched onto something, only for an instant, and yet he saw it play out as if it were happening in real time.

“I. Am. Iron Man.”

No, no, that couldn’t be right.

There had to be another way. There had to be a better way.

He reached out into time itself with all the strength he could muster.

And he saw it. Again, for just a moment, but he saw it as clearly as if he could reach out and touch it.

And then it was gone.

With a yell, Strange was suddenly lurched back into the present moment, his eyes flying open with a momentary spike of shock and panic.

Stark had finally noticed what he was doing, and was now standing right in front of him. Strange nearly lost his balance as he fell from where he had been levitating, and Stark reached out to help him catch himself.

“You’re back,” he told Strange reassuringly. “You’re alright.”

Without being fully aware of it, Strange breathed out a “hi” in response as he regained his bearings.

“What was that?” asked Peter Parker, taking a step forward; as the rest of the group were now squarely focused on the mage.

Strange took a deep breath, steadying himself as he addressed the rest of the team.

“I went forward in time,” he explained. “To view alternate futures. To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

For a moment, they could only stare at him, dumbfounded by the sheer possibility.

“How many did you see?” Quill asked.

“Fourteen million, six hundred and five,” Strange replied, without having to so much as stop to think about it.

After letting that sink in for a moment, Stark was quick to ask a question of his own.

“How many did we win?”

Strange hesitated. A haunting image still lingered behind his eyes.

“...Two.”

~

Strange had been as specific as he could feasibly be in the relevant details of his vision -- at least, how they were meant to proceed from where they currently were in the timeline. There was only so much that he could give away, without potentially altering said timeline.

But he knew enough so that they were ready when Thanos emerged from the portal, arriving on Titan: his former homeland.

When he finally did, Strange was waiting for him. It was the first time he had really seen Thanos, the so-called Mad Titan who was threatening the world, and indeed the galaxy at large.

Oh, yeah, he caught himself thinking; comparing the towering beast before him to the little crony who had tortured him before. He’s much more of a ‘Thanos.’

As if he could hear Strange’s thoughts, the Titan’s eyes soon found him where he was seated on the stone steps; part of the wreckage of the ravaged planet.

“We finally meet, sorcerer,” Thanos said by way of greeting, taking a few steps towards him. The whole interaction seemed oddly cordial, given the circumstances. “I take it the Maw is dead.”

Strange could only nod in response.

Thanos looked almost...wistful. “This day extracts a heavy toll,” he mused. “Yet, he accomplished his mission.”

“You may regret that,” Strange pointed out, holding his gaze. “He brought you face-to-face with the Master of the Mystic Arts.”

Thanos did not seem fazed by the thinly veiled threat. He merely continued in his slow, steady approach.

“And where do you think he brought you?” he asked simply. 

Strange took a moment to glance at their surroundings.

“Let me guess,” he answered. “This was your home?”

For a moment, Thanos almost looked...tortured. He lifted his face, gazing at the wreckage all around them with a look of wonder on his face.

“It was,” he admitted, in a whisper. “And it was beautiful.”

His gauntlet hand flexed just slightly, and illuminated with the striking red glow of the Reality Stone. He conjured a vision all around them of the past, giving Strange a glimpse at what Titan had been in its prime.

“Titan was like most planets,” Thanos continued. “Thriving, full of vast technological advancements...and densely populated. Too densely, it seemed. People were starving in the streets; dying slow, painful deaths, while others grew fat and blissfully ignorant, living in excess. It was to be our downfall.”

He met Strange’s eyes again, grimly.

“In the face of extinction, I merely offered a more...elegant solution.”

Strange could only stare at him, incredulous.

“Elegant?” he echoed in disbelief. “What exactly is elegant about committing genocide?”

“That’s an ugly word,” Thanos said simply, shaking his head. “I would not discriminate. It would be random. Fair. But they wouldn’t listen to me. They said I was mad.”

He relaxed his hand, and gradually the image he had conjured faded and disappeared, leaving only the desolate wasteland. 

“And so it came to pass.”

Strange was hardly impressed. 

“So, what?” he asked rhetorically. “You’re some kind of prophet? Cursed to have your prophecies never believed? But now, you’re the one who’s fulfilling those same prophecies; forcing them to come true. By murdering trillions.”

Thanos tilted his head.

“Murder? No,” he replied. “Once I have all of the Stones, it won’t have to be that way, not anymore. It will be so much easier. There will be no violence. No pain. I would only have to...snap my fingers, and they would all cease to exist. That...is mercy.”

Strange continued to stare at Thanos, with pure derision, as he got to his feet.

“And once you’ve done it,” he said. “What happens then?”

“Then…” Thanos answered, as calmly as ever. “I will finally be able to rest. Watch the sun rise on a world without pain.”

He met Strange’s eyes once again.

“The hardest choices require the strongest wills.”

Strange decided he had heard enough. Thanos was not mad, he was worse than mad -- he truly believed in every word he was saying.

As he spoke, Strange threw his hands out in front of him, using his sling ring to conjure the necessary spells as he readied himself for a fight.

“I think you’ll find that our will...is equal...to yours!”

“Our?” Thanos echoed, his brow furrowing.

The word had scarcely escaped his lips when the rest of the team, who had been in hiding up until this point, put their plan into action.

Stark was high above them, having taken a huge piece of the wreckage on Titan and was now bringing it down straight onto Thanos. The ground shook with the impact, but everyone knew it would take more than that to bring him down.

“See, Quill? Piece of cake!” Stark prematurely bragged.

“Yeah, if your goal was just to piss him off!” Quill quipped back, as he, too, rushed into the fray, with Parker and Drax close behind him.

He was all too right; as with the Power and Reality Stones on his side, Thanos was quick to free himself, turning the pieces of the wrecked tower into a scattering of birds that threw Stark off his path.

As they fought, Strange focused on using his magic to help the rest of the team as much as possible; from conjuring a sword to face Thanos in direct combat himself, to using spells and portals to aid Quill and Parker in their own attacks.

When he had a moment, Strange turned his head into his collar, quietly addressing his constant companion, the Cloak of Levitation.

“Whatever you do, don’t let him close his fist,” he told the cloak. His collar twitched, almost in a nodding motion, before the cloak loosed itself from his shoulders and set to its task; wrapping itself around Thanos’ gauntlet.

The cloak was able to keep Thanos still long enough for Parker to attack him, hopping through various portals as Strange conjured them, but soon enough Thanos managed to grab him with his free hand, throwing him aside -- directly into Strange, sending them both toppling to the ground, and allowing Thanos to rip the cloak off of his gauntlet arm.

Thankfully, by this point Stark had steered himself back into the fight. He managed to distract Thanos long enough for Strange to cast another spell, one that held Thanos’ gauntlet arm in the grip of a thousand thick, magical coils. 

Even as Thanos struggled against their grip, Strange had him, and as Quill fired one of his taser bolts, holding Thanos’ other arm with pure electricity, the Titan was effectively immobilized. To aid matters, Parker wrapped his webbing around and around Thanos’ torso, trying to minimize his struggling as Stark moved to pull the gauntlet off of him. Somehow, in the struggle, Drax had grabbed hold of Thanos’ leg, trying to aid in holding him still.

Now for the last piece of the puzzle. With one quick flick of his arm, Strange opened one last portal -- and Mantis dropped through it, landing on Thanos’ shoulders, and seizing his head between her hands. Thanos gave a scream of rage as he struggled against all of them at once.

“SLEEP!!!!” Mantis cried out as her antennas illuminated.

And he did.

There was a brief, breathless moment of silence as Thanos lost consciousness.

“Is he under?” Stark asked. “Don’t let up.”

“Please, try to hurry,” Mantis choked out. “He is very strong. I’m not sure how long I can hold him.”

“Parker, get over here!” Stark called out. “Little help?”

Almost immediately, Parker scrambled over to join Stark, trying to help him pull the gauntlet off of Thanos’ arm. 

“We gotta get this thing off, and quick,” Stark instructed Parker, and they both began to pull with all their might.

“We’ve gotta open his fingers…” Parker began.

The two of them were still working away, as Quill finally rejoined the group. Lowering himself back down onto the ground, he shut off his hover-boots and minimized his mask, striding over to where the others had Thanos in their grasp.

“I gotta say, this is almost disappointing,” Quill said. “Thought the big guy would be harder to catch.”

He drew closer, peering at Thanos’ still-open eyes, where they had been misted over by Mantis’ powers.

“Guess you’re not so tough now, huh?” Quill taunted him, drawing closer still. Now that they had him, there was only one thing left on his mind.

“Where is Gamora?” he asked Thanos, his expression suddenly growing very serious.

Gamora, Strange remembered. When Quill and his companions had first found him, Stark, and Peter on Ebony Maw’s ship, he had asked after a woman named Gamora. She had been captured by Thanos, on a mission gone wrong. 

From the way he spoke of her, it wasn’t hard to guess the nature of Quill’s relationship to her.

Thanos’ features twitched. Though Mantis still held him under, he was still very aware, and could hear what Quill was saying. After a moment, his mouth twitched, and he managed to speak; though his voice was strained.

“My....Gamora…”

“Bullshit!” Quill snapped. “Where is she?! You better tell me, right now!!”

Thanos was silent for a long moment, but Mantis’ antennas twitched. She could sense his emotional climate.

“He is...sad,” she said. “So very sad. It is as if his heart is breaking.”

“Good!” Quill spat.

“No...it is not just that,” Mantis elaborated. “He is...in deep mourning…”

Quill stopped. His face was etched with confusion.

“What could this monster possibly have to mourn?!” Drax exclaimed in disbelief.

There was a moment of horrible silence, before Thanos spoke again.

“Gamora,” he choked out, straining against Mantis’ hold on him. “I...took her to Vormir. I returned...with the Soul Stone. She...did not.”

Quill could only stare at him in horror. 

“A soul...for a soul.”

Quill was silent. His face was a myriad of emotions, but above all was a slowly building rage, boiling just behind his eyes, threatening to spill over at any second.

“Quill,” Tony said, diverting his attention away from the gauntlet as he realized the situation. “Quill, look at me. You’ve gotta stay calm. You hear me? Stay calm --”

But Quill wasn’t looking at Tony. He was still staring at Thanos. Tears of fury were welling in his eyes. 

“No, Quill, don’t,” Tony pressed on, his voice becoming more and more desperate as he tried to get through to him. “We’re so close, Quill! Just give us a second, and then you can beat his ass!”

Quill’s hands were balled into fists at his sides.

“You’re lying,” he hissed at Thanos. “You’re lying!! Tell me you didn’t do it, you bastard!!”

Thanos’ mouth slowly moved again.

“I...had...to.”

Tears freely spilled from Quill’s eyes.

“No, you didn’t,” he whispered. “You didn’t have to.”

“Quill --” Tony began, but it was too late.

In a fit of grief, Quill swung his fist directly into Thanos’ face.

“No!!” Tony cried.

“You son of a bitch!!” Quill screamed as he continued to punch at him. “You killed her!! How could you?!”

Tony rushed forward, grabbing Quill and dragging him off of Thanos.

“Stop it, stop!” he told him urgently, trying to hold him back.

Parker, now alone, was still trying to pull the gauntlet fully off.

“It’s coming off!” he exclaimed. “I’ve almost got it! Almost --!!”

Thanos’ eyes opened fully, as he freed himself from Mantis’ trance.

With one swift motion, Thanos pushed his hand into the gauntlet again and shook Mantis off of his shoulders, grabbing her by the leg and tossing her away from him. 

“Oh God --” Parker gasped, barely dodging Thanos’ swing at him and instead using his webs to pursue Mantis, catching her before she could hit the ground.

One by one, Thanos threw each of the others off of him as well -- Drax first, and then Strange, who flew a fair distance before breaking his fall on pure sand. 

Coughing, Strange tried to get his bearings again as he dragged himself back onto his feet. All at once, his attention was diverted by the sound of a ship landing nearby.

He lifted his head towards the source of the sound, and saw a vaguely familiar craft -- it looked like the same kind of ship from Thanos’ fleet.

He watched as the lone occupant of the ship disembarked: a tall alien woman with green skin, and a curtain of dark fuchsia hair. She was dressed practically, and carried a longsword -- ready for a fight.

She didn’t see him, instead breaking into a run and making a beeline straight for Thanos, who was locked in direct combat with Stark.

“Stop it!!” she yelled, grabbing the attention of everyone -- even Thanos.

For a moment, everything was silent. Quill especially was gaping with shock.

“Well, well,” Thanos said, momentarily turning his attention away from Stark. “I might have known you would escape so easily. Your sister was right: I taught you well, after all.”

The woman stared at him with pure hatred.

“Where is she?” she growled. “Where is Nebula?!”

“Gamora…” Quill breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from her. “You’re alive.”

She looked over and met his eyes.

“Peter,” she whispered, and moved to his side immediately, though her stance was still one of defense. She grabbed Quill’s hand in her own, placing herself between him and Thanos -- but he still only saw her.

Thanos was smiling down at Quill with condescension. 

“I knew you would take the bait,” he told him. “You’re too soft. It makes you easy to manipulate.”

Gamora glared up at Thanos.

“What did you do?” she hissed.

“He…” Quill said, struggling to get the words out as Gamora turned towards him. “He told me you were dead. That...he killed you, to get the Soul Stone.”

“What?” Gamora breathed, and all at once the pieces came together in her mind. 

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the telltale orange glow from Thanos’ gauntlet.

She let go of Quill and wheeled on Thanos with a yell of rage and pain.

“You took Nebula to Vormir!!” she cried out. “You locked me up, and you took her instead!!”

“Nebula?” Drax echoed in disbelief.

“No…” Mantis whispered, covering her mouth with her hands.

“Why?!” Gamora’s voice broke as she all but screamed at the man who had called her daughter, and her face twisted with grief.

She would not allow herself to cry in front of him. She couldn’t.

And yet he looked at her with that same pity that she hated.

“I know you loved your sister, little one,” he told her. “I loved her, too. You must know that.”

Gamora shook her head.

“You don’t even know what love is,” she said coldly. “Out of all of us, you always treated Nebula the worst. She was the one who actually wanted you to love her, and you never did!!”

“I pushed her as hard as I did because I wanted her to be the best she could be,” Thanos replied, stalwart. “And in the end, I made sure she knew how proud I was of her. How is that not love?”

Gamora spat at his feet.

“You...are a monster.”

“I’m inclined to agree with her,” Strange spoke up, diverting the Titan’s attention as he approached.

Having once again donned his Cloak, he was levitating in Thanos’ direction, placing himself in front of the rest of the group.

“This has to end, now,” Strange asserted.

“I agree,” Thanos said, and he swiftly raised his gauntlet arm.

“Don’t --!!” Gamora exclaimed, but it was too late. 

Thanos brought down his fist onto the ground below, and the Stones began to glow as he sent a shock wave through the earth beneath their feet, sending all except the levitating Strange sprawling miles away. 

Drax grabbed Mantis as they careened through the air, shielding her with his own body, and Quill did the same with Gamora. Stark and Parker managed to brace their falls using their respective suits, but they had all been thrown a great distance away from Strange, who was now facing Thanos himself.

“Everybody okay?” Stark called out, and there were general affirmations all around.

“I’m alright!” Drax in particular exclaimed. “My skin is as thick as leather and as rough as sandpaper!”

“It’s true,” Mantis said as she pulled herself free of Drax’s grasp. “He is like a turtle.”

Now that they had a moment away from the battle, Gamora and Quill were hugging each other tightly.

“I thought I lost you…” Quill whispered, and Gamora drew back to cup his face in her hands.

“Peter…” she began.

“Baby, I messed up,” Quill pressed on, cutting her off. “I really messed up. If we lose now, it’ll be because of me.”

“Shhhh, Peter, no,” Gamora told him reassuringly. “This is not your fault. Thanos lied to you, that’s on him. We can still stop him.”

“Not just that,” Quill said abruptly. “I made a promise to you, and I couldn’t keep it. I was a coward, and I’m so, so sorry, Gamora.”

Gamora remembered. She had made him promise that he would kill her before he let Thanos capture her again. But the moment came, and he had hesitated. But even if he hadn’t, Thanos already had claimed the Reality Stone -- he never would have let her go, no matter what Quill had done.

“Oh, Peter…” Her thumb stroked his cheekbone. “I’m sorry, too. It wasn’t fair to ask that of you.”

She lowered her hands from his face, instead grabbing hold of his hands.

“We’re here now,” she told him. “And we can do this. Together.”

She gave his hands an encouraging squeeze, tugging him in for a brief, but warm kiss.

“Now let’s go,” she told him, pulling him up onto his feet along with her. “Your friend in the cape is gonna need some help.”

Quill looked over towards Strange, and even in the distance, he saw hundreds of duplicates of the sorcerer all holding Thanos in place with bolts of magic.

“You sure about that?” he wondered aloud, but Gamora was already sprinting towards the fighting, trying to get there as fast as possible.

“Drax, stay with Mantis!” Gamora called out as she started running. “Keep her safe!”

“I will!” Drax affirmed. “She is so fearsome, the Titan would not dare to attack her!”

Mantis beamed with pride.

“What about me?” Parker asked as Gamora drew closer to him.

Gamora stopped in her tracks, taken aback by how young his voice sounded.

“Wait until the fighting subsides, then bring Mantis and Drax back over,” she instructed him. “We’ll signal you when it’s safe.”

“Right, gotcha. I can totally do that,” Parker agreed with a nod.

“You got this, Little P,” Quill told him encouragingly. “Here, let me give you a lift!” he added, as he scooped Gamora up into his arms and switched on his hover-boots. 

Sure, they were nowhere near as fast as Stark’s fancy suit, but it would make a difference.

~

Strange was tapping into everything the Ancient One had taught him to keep Thanos at bay: mirror walls, transfiguration, warping reality. 

And yet, he could only hold Thanos at bay for a short time, before the Power Stone made short work of his duplicates; leaving only the real Strange. 

Using the one remaining whip he had conjured, Thanos yanked Strange down to his level, holding him by the throat.

“You’re full of tricks, wizard,” he observed, before reaching down and tugging the Eye of Agamotto free from where it hung around Strange’s neck. “But you never once used your greatest weapon.”

As he spoke, he tightened his fist around the Eye until it -- and its contents -- shattered to pieces.

“A mere decoy,” Thanos said knowingly. Of course the Sorcerers Supreme would never risk carrying the real Infinity Stone out in the open like that.

He threw Strange aside, letting him tumble to the ground, but before he could make any further move, his gauntlet was struck by one of Stark’s devices.

Naturally, following the device was Stark himself, who deliberately landed between Thanos and Strange.

“I’d tell you to pick on someone your own size, but that doesn’t leave much of a selection,” Stark quipped.

Thanos merely met his gaze, intrigued.

“Stark.”

“You know me?” Tony asked, surprised and confused.

“I do,” Thanos replied. “You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge.”

Tony wasn’t impressed.

“Right now, my only curse is you.”

With that, he leaped into action, firing off his small set of drones, and using the device he had attached to the gauntlet as a target.

He knew none of his attacks would keep Thanos down for long, but he just kept hitting him and hitting him, with as many different weapons as he possibly could. He tapped into every extension and every terabyte of data he had installed into this new nanotech suit -- and only one blow managed to cut a gash into Thanos’ cheek.

The Titan almost laughed.

“All that, for one drop of blood.”

Now it was his turn.

He threw Tony to the ground, unleashing his own barrage of blows. Tony’s suit could barely rebuild itself fast enough to keep up, and still he fought on; trying to match him blow for blow, blast for blast, despite clearly lacking the upper hand.

In desperation, he extended his hand, letting the nanobytes in his suit form a bladed weapon.

He raised it, trying to jab it directly at Thanos, but the Titan caught his arm.

With one easy twist of his hand, Thanos broke the blade off of Tony’s suit -- and brought it up, through Tony’s side.

Tony gasped and choked, groaning in pain as Thanos gradually pushed him backwards, until he had no choice but to sit on a stray piece of wreckage.

“You have my respect, Stark,” Thanos said, placing his hand on the top of Tony’s head. “When I’m done, there will still be one half of all life in the galaxy that will still be alive.”

He released his hold on Tony, straightening up to his full height once again.

“I hope they remember you.”

Tony could only try desperately to catch his breath. Blood dripped from his mouth.

Thanos lifted his gauntlet, Stones at the ready, to deliver the finishing blow.

“Stop!!”

The Titan turned towards the source of the voice. It was Strange, dragging himself upright where he had been thrown to the ground.

“Spare his life...and I will give you the Time Stone.”

Thanos’ brow furrowed, clearly skeptical of the mage’s bold claim.

“No tricks?”

Strange shook his head. He was deathly serious.

Even despite his agony, Tony choked out a single word.

“Don’t.”

But Strange lifted his hand, and drew the real Time Stone out of thin air -- brilliant, effervescent green.

Tony wanted to scream, yell at the top of his lungs, to grab Strange and shake him and demand to know what in the hell he was thinking, but he couldn’t do any of that. Any sound he tried to make only came out as a strangled moan of pain.

He was powerless to stop Strange as he sent the Time Stone floating with purpose through the air, directly into Thanos’ hand.

He lifted his gauntlet, and the Stone flew into its place in it, as if drawn by a magnet. Thanos gasped as he felt the sudden rush of power surge through his body.

“...Only one left to go.”  
Just then, the gauntlet was hit -- but undamaged -- by blaster bolts; two in quick succession.

Thanos whirled, and saw that it was Quill firing on him, gaining fast on his hover-boots. Gamora was on his back to avoid the shots.

Once they got close enough, Gamora pulled herself up onto Quill’s shoulders and jumped directly at Thanos with a battle scream, lifting her sword high, aiming it straight at the Mad Titan’s heart.

His hand barely moved, and the Space Stone portaled him away.

Gamora fell through the empty air, and Quill quickly dove to catch her; both of them tumbling to the ground where Thanos used to be.

He was gone.

Quill coughed as Gamora helped him back onto his feet, each of them making sure the other was okay before turning to face Stark and Strange.

“Where the hell did he go?!” Quill wondered aloud.

With a growl of frustration, Gamora kicked the nearest piece of crumbling debris, scattering it into ashes.

Stark could only collapse where he was, taking a moment to use some of the healing agent in his suit on his wound. Then he met Strange’s gaze.

“Why would you do that?” Stark asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

Strange was silent for a long moment.

“This is it,” he said softly. “This is the endgame.”


	6. VI. T'CHALLA

T’Challa, King of Wakanda.

The Black Panther.

An Avenger.

He had been but a Prince during The Event, watching live video-feeds of the alien forces swarming Manhattan from the safety of his bedchambers. The Chitauri Invasion had cost New York City thousands. It had cost the world its safety.

But Loki was nothing compared to Thanos.

“When you said that we were going to open Wakanda to the rest of world,” drawled Okoye as they walked out onto the landing deck, the Dora Milaje following close behind, “This is not what I imagined.”

T’Challa smiled, amused.

“And what did you imagine?”

“The Olympics,” her lips pulled down, “Maybe even a Starbucks.”

“We’ll ask Barnes if we can sew one onto his jacket.”

Okoye stared at him.

“Because his name is Bucky,” T’Challa explained, “And if we attach a star to—"

“I _understand_ the joke,” she interrupted, “I’m not laughing because it wasn’t funny.”

She paused.

“My king.”

T’Challa frowned and returned his attention to the landed jet as the dock opened. He could see Captain Rogers standing at the forefront, Natasha and Rhodey dutifully by his side, amongst others still cloaked in darkness.

He halted. The Dora Milaje stopped behind him.

“Nakia would find it funny.”

Okoye raised a brow.

“Shall I contact her?” she raised her wrist, the Kimoyo beads activating in response… and preparation.

T’Challa stuttered.

“Ah, no need to bother her.”

“As you wish, my king.”

Captain Rogers approached.

“Welcome back,” T’Challa greeted, “I see you’ve brought company.”

“Seems like I’m always thanking you for something, huh?” he laughed and embraced his extended arm, “I’d like you to meet Dr. Bruce Banner.”

“It is, uh…” Bruce bowed awkwardly, looking as wide-eyed and uncomfortable as a newborn giraffe, “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness—I mean, Your Majesty! I mean—”

Okoye snorted beside him.

“We—We don’t do that here. T’Challa is fine enough,” he waved his palm and inclined his head in greeting, “And the honor is mine, Dr. Banner. It is not every day that we have a world-renowned nuclear physicist visiting our kingdom.”

“I—What?”

“My sister has read through all of your papers. She was especially fond of your collaboration with Dr. Ross on the biomechanics of starfish cellular regeneration. I believe she said,” he air-quoted, “ _It was hella dope._ ”

“That’s just—I don’t know what to—” Bruce ran his hands through his hair, “Wow.”

“They were amongst her favorite bedtime stories.”

“Wait, what—”

“So,” T’Challa moved forward, addressing the matter at hand, “How big of an assault should we expect?”

“Bigger than anything we’ve ever faced,” answered Captain Rogers, “We need an army. Anyone you can spare—”

“You have my King’s Guard,” he rolled back his shoulders, “The Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…”

“And a semi-stable 100-year-old man.”

One James Buchanan Barnes approached the crowd from behind, his prosthesis calibration having apparently gone well. Deactivating all of the code words activating his Winter Soldier programming hadn’t been hard, _per se_ , but… it had taken a while. Going through every neuron, every connection, took time and patience.

Still, seeing the results… the vibrancy in Barnes’ once-dead eyes and the smile on Captain Rogers’ face had all but been worth it.

Bucky approached Steve and pulled him into an embrace.

“Oh look,” Okoye drawled, “Starbucks.”

 

* * *

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bruce waved his hands in front of his face, “You didn’t tell me that your head scientist was a—a—a _teenager_.”

“Teenager I may be, but that has little correlation with being the smartest person in the room, Dr. Banner,” Shuri quickly shut him down, so used to comments regarding her age and position that she barely blinked an eye at them anymore, “In the meantime, I suggest minding how you speak since this place? Where you’re currently standing? That is _my lab_.”

She grinned.

“My brother may be King, but here? Here I am Queen.”

Bruce, startled, looked towards T’Challa.

But, he merely shrugged, “She has a point.”

They may have lived in the most technologically advanced country in the world, but that didn’t mean that everyone possessed the capabilities to create, nevertheless, _understand_ said technology. Use it? Yes. Understand the basic principles of vibranium? Of course. But harnessing its energy and fashioning it into something entirely new?

That was all Shuri’s division.

“Now, that we’ve got that all settled,” she pushed past Dr. Banner and extended a hand towards Vision, “It is a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance, Mr. Vision. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Shuri,” he smiled, weak but sincere as he slipped his hand into hers, “But please, feel free to call me just Vision. There is no such need for formalities.”

“Alright, _just Vision_. As long as you call me _just Shuri_ , I’m sure that can be arranged,” she grinned and stepped away, “Hop up onto that table right there and let’s take a good look at that stone.”

It took both Wanda and Natasha’s assistance to help him up onto the examination platform, but they made it nonetheless; and, just in time for Shuri to walk back over with the scanner.

She pulled up a holographic image of the infinity stone after she was done, the entire process taking only a matter of seconds, and spun it around to take a better look at it.

“Whoa,” Bruce peered over her shoulder.

“The structure is polymorphic,” Shuri murmured, eyes darting back and forth in what T’Challa called her ‘thinking face.’ So entrenched in what laid before her that she forgot about the world moving forward without her.

“Right,” Bruce confirmed, “We had to attach each neuron non-sequentially.”

Shuri’s thinking face froze.

“…Why didn’t you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?”

“Because—” Bruce looked thoughtful for a moment, “Because we… didn’t think of that.”

Shuri forced a smile and went back to looking at the display, zooming in on the stone with just a flick of the wrist, “Well, I’m sure you did your best.”

“So,” Wanda whispered, “Can you do it? Can you… save him?”

Shuri stilled.

“Yes,” her voice sounded strained, “It’s not too much of a stretch from what we’ve already done for Mr. Barnes, but… that process took months to complete. There are more than two trillion neurons here to go through. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures. It will take time.”

Wanda gripped Vision’s hand.

“We don’t have months.”

“It will be difficult. But I can do it.”

T’Challa stepped forward.

“How long do you need?”

Shuri met his eye.

“As long as you can give me, brother.”

Okoye’s Kimoyo beads trilled. She pulled up an image of the Earth and… something more. Something that, most certainly, wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Something’s entered the atmosphere,” she looked up, “And it’s heading towards us.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ve got two heat signatures breaking through the tree line,” warned Rhodey, flying above them whilst T’Challa gathered his armies to the center-point of the battlefield, “Be careful. They’ve got some really big ships lurking behind them and I really don’t want to have a look inside.”

“Duly noted.”

Nakia was busy evacuating the city. As much as he’d prefer having her here, fighting by his side, T’Challa was taking no risks when it came to the lives of his citizens. New York City had suffered too many casualties during the last alien invasion that, despite having full confidence in the strength of the barrier protecting his city, he wasn’t taking any chances. There was no such thing as being too careful where Thanos was concerned.

The Leader of the Jabari stepped beside him.

“Thank you for standing with us,” T’Challa took M’Baku’s arm into his, “It means a lot.”

“ _Mfowethu_ ,” M’Baku nodded his head, “We fight and we die as one.”

“Yes. I just hope it does not come to that.”

He released him and headed to the edge of their sanctum with Captain Rogers and the Black Widow flanking his side. They had fought against this particular enemy before, and he valued their feedback.

But ultimately, the decision on how to proceed would be his.

After all, this was his country.

And he was its King.

“Where’s your other friend?” Natasha taunted, smug as they stood face-to-barrier-to-face with Proxima Midnight and Cull Obsidian.

This was the very first time that T’Challa had ever laid eyes upon the notorious minions of Thanos. Tall and dominating, the pair were. These two were battle-hardened warriors that knew exactly where they stood and their eyes, narrowed and wild, were filled with enough mad conviction that they rivaled the fire that had once fueled N’Jadaka.

“You will pay for his life with yours,” Proxima Midnight lifted her chin, “And Thanos will have that stone.”

“Not gonna happen,” said the Captain.

“You are in Wakanda now,” T’Challa stepped forward, “Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood. Turn back now, before it is too late.”

Proxima Midnight tilted her head.

And smiled.

“We… have blood to spare.”

Their ships opened.

T’Challa and his companions retook their positions.

The creatures that they released weren’t Chitauri. They weren’t anything they had ever seen before. These were beasts—no, something lesser than beasts.

These were monsters.

“They’re killing themselves,” Okoye whispered, horrified.

The aliens pummeled into the barrier. They snapped and snarled, clawed and gored. Be it only an arm, a leg, or even the entire head, they would sacrifice anything just to get themselves through.

And it was working.

The holes they made, however brief and life-ending they were, provided just enough of an opening for their brethren to tumble through.

T’Challa raised his fist to the sky.

“Yibambe!”

“ _Yibambe!_ ”

“Yibambe!”

“ _Yibambe!_ ”

The Border Tribe, summoned by their fellow Wakandans’ battle-cries, filed to the front. They activated their shields, blanketing them in a vibrant, pulsating shade of blue, and guarded the Dora Milaje and their armies behind them. Okoye slammed the butt of her spear into the ground and thrust it over W’Kabi’s shoulders.

The Dora Milaje followed suit.

“Are you ready, my love?”

“With you guarding my back?” W’Kabi answered, “Always.”

T’Challa dropped his fist.

“Fire!”

The Dora Milaje blasted the oncoming horde.

Bucky peered down the sights of his weapon and unleashed a wave of bullets, covering the ground whilst Sam and Rhodey flew overhead. Sam barraged the monsters with miniature Redwings that Shuri had designed specifically for him, sticking themselves to the enemy forces below and exploding them to pieces. Rhodey showered them with grenades and missiles, encompassing the battlefield in a wave of fire and death.

But the monsters kept coming.

“Cap,” came Banner’s voice, warning through the comm, “If these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us, there’s nothing between them and Vision.”

T’Challa pressed his hand to his ear.

“Shuri, update. What is the status on Vision?”

“We’ve only just begun, brother,” Shuri’s voice sounded strained, no doubt focusing all of her attention and more on the quick and safe separation of the infinity stone and the android, “I need more time.”

“You have twenty minutes.”

“Brother—”

T’Challa switched comms, sending a direct message to dome support.

“On my signal, open North-West Section 17.”

Okoye’s head snapped towards him.

“Requesting confirmation, my king,” answered dome support, wary and uncertain, “You said open the barrier?”

“On my signal.”

“Yes, my king.”

“This will be the end of Wakanda,” lamented M’Baku.

Okoye rolled back her shoulders and hoisted back up her spear.

“Then it will be the noblest ending in history.”

The Border Tribe dropped their shields and fell back.

“Now!” T’Challa pulled up his helmet and charged forward, “Wakanda forever!”

The barrier opened, letting the monsters in.

 

* * *

 

They were out of time.

Twenty minutes, T’Challa had promised Shuri. Twenty minutes to hold back the horde.

They were lucky to have survived for five.

T’Challa slammed into flesh and dirt, building and building and _building_ up kinetic energy until his suit practically thrummed with it. He ran up the slanted side of a boulder and threw himself up into the air.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

And then he slammed into the ground.

One of the beasts crashed into him. Its jaws went straight to his throat.

T’Challa threw up his hands, throwing every ounce of his strength and will into keeping its mouth from closing. Saliva dripped onto his helmet.

“I—” he ground out, pushing the jaws out wider and wider, “I. Will. Not. Die. Here!”

He ripped them apart.

The body fell on top of him.

There was no time to waste.

_Inhale—_

No, not even to breathe.

_Move, T’Challa._

He shoved off the corpse and threw himself back into battle.

The battle that they were losing.

Hundreds of Wakandans. Dead. Okoye and W’Kabi fought side-by-side. Banner pummeled through the oncoming horde; the Hulk-Buster had barely taken a scratch. Bucky Barnes shot one of the creatures point-blank between the eyes whilst the Black Widow stunned the one stalking up behind him with her Widow Bites. Captain Rogers was surrounded and—

T’Challa ran.

Grabbing the hind legs of one of their fallen brethren, he whirled around and tossed it into the fray. It knocked down three out of the five; but, with an almost choreographed round-house kick to the face from Rogers and a swift uppercut from T’Challa, both creatures soon joined their brothers on the ground.

“Seems like I owe you another one,” the Captain quipped.

The creatures surrounded them again. Twice the amount this time.

“Perhaps you can start paying me back now.”

They stood back-to-back.

“They never stop coming do they?” Steve said, out-of-breath.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired, Captain Rogers.”

Steve laughed.

“Oh me?” he raised his shield, “I can do this all damn day.”

The creatures lunged—

And fell to the ground, decapitated.

“Well… I have to admit,” T’Challa lowered his fists, “I did not see that coming.”

An axe, sparkling with ice and electricity, flew through the battlefield.

The sky boomed.

Dirt and rubble raised from the ground.

Captain Rogers looked up at the portal opening above them.

“…Thor?”

A resplendent prism of light flashed down, temporarily stunning those who still breathed amongst the sea of dead. The ground froze. Tendrils of ice splattered across the dirt, encasing the Earth and what corpses littered it in a thick, glacial haze.

A hand reached out.

And caught Stormbreaker.

Loki.

Suddenly Okoye and W’Kabi were beside him, spear and shield working in tandem.

Had he been that caught off guard?

“Holy shit! No one told me we were going to Calurnia,” the— _the talking racoon_ standing beside Loki cackled, pointing straight at T’Challa, “Look at this Groot! Is this guy serious? Hey, pointy-ears! Why’re you wearing a catsuit out in the middle of a battlefield, huh?”

The racoon wheezed and patted down its suit.

“Does the kitty-kitty want some milky-milky? Or does the kitty-kitty want some fishy-fishy? I think I’ve got a can of tuna somewhere—"

“I am Groot.”

Oh good. The tree talked too.

“What d’ya mean you threw it out—”

“Ignore them,” Loki drawled, raising his blue-tinged hands preemptively in the air in the universal sign of surrender, “That’s what I do.”

“Now, just hold on a minute here, Iceman—”

“Did they make it?” Loki addressed T’Challa, in spite of ( or perhaps, due to ) the spear pointed straight towards his chest, “Does the Valkyrie live? What of Heimdall? Or Banner?”

Steve stepped forward, shield raised and face schooled into a neutral expression.

“What do you know about Bruce?”

Loki’s head whipped towards him.

“Captain.”

“I asked you a question.”

Loki smirked.

“Is that how you talk to your savior?”

“No,” Steve deadpanned and stepped closer, “But that’s how I talk to the person who murdered thousands of innocent people and tried to enslave the planet.”

The God of Mischief faltered.

“Thor—”

“Where is he?”

“He’s dead.”

Loki’s grip on the axe tightened.

“And I’ve come to avenge him.”

Thor.

God of Thunder.

One of the Founding Avengers.

Dead.

T’Challa almost accused him of trickery. Surely, what he claimed must have been some sort of lie. And yet, though Loki was the God of Mischief and Lies, somehow… somehow, T’Challa knew somewhere deep down beyond his beating heart that what he said was the _truth_.

Thor was dead.

And Loki had _watched._

No one, not even a Trickster, could mimic the raw, gaping wound that special sort of grief left behind.

T’Challa should know.

Both his father and cousin had died in his arms.

“Oh Great and Merciful Bast,” Okoye’s eyes widened.

So, she had come to the same realization.

Captain Rogers stood, momentarily frozen in time. T’Challa had known of Thor, but the Captain? The Captain had _known_ him. He had lived with him and fought alongside him. News of Thor’s death was shocking, but it must have been a thousand-fold more for Steve.

But the Captain soon straightened.

There was no time for grief in the middle of a war.

“And who are they?” Captain Rogers gestured to Loki’s companions.

“The loud-mouth one with no filter,” he waved towards the talking raccoon, “Is Rocket.”

Rocket opened his mouth and raised a finger; but, before he could say a word, he dropped it and shrugged.

“Eh, he has a point.”

Steve looked to the other.

“And you are?”

“I am Groot.”

The Captain smiled, bemused.

“I am Steve Rogers.”

Loki snorted.

Clearly missing the joke that, honestly, T’Challa didn’t understand either, Captain Rogers approached Loki until he stood a breadth’s width away. He stared into his eyes for a long moment. Searching for what? T’Challa didn’t know. But when the Captain lowered his shield and extended his hand to him, Loki embraced it.

“Well then, I guess there’s nothing left to say except—” Steve turned back to the battle, “Avengers… Assemble.”

 

* * *

 

Loki’s heart thrummed in his chest.

He honestly hadn’t expected _that_ particular reunion to go on so well. Not when the last time he’d come face-to-face with the Captain was when he had been fighting against him. Not when last time, he had been but a pawn in Thanos’ game.

And yet, here he was: Loki, an Avenger.

Odinson.

God of Mischief and Lies.

The Rightful King of Jotunheim.

_An Avenger._

Loki shot through the air, Stormbreaker guiding him forth, wondering if this was how Thor had felt wielding Mjolnir—the object Loki had never been worthy of, no matter how hard he’d tried.

He felt… powerful.

Free.

For the first time in a very long time, he felt like a god; and, not simply in title alone.

Loki cast out an illusion to the ground below, cloaking himself as he descended back into battle. He slithered up behind one of the monsters distracted by his shadow. Stone silent, growing closer and closer—

Until he shoved Stormbreaker into the creature’s back.

It collapsed into a puddle of blood.

The ground rumbled.

Loki cast out another illusion out of reflex, hiding himself within the shadow of a shadow.

Machines burrowed underneath the earth and ripped through the surface on the other side of Wakanda’s barrier. Its spikes uprooted whatever fertile land remained in this wasteland and splattered everything it passed in a wave of blood and gore.

One of them ran over his illusion without hesitation.

But Loki was undeterred.

He had faced worse foes. 

“Get down!”

That voice—

Loki whirled around and found Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, and the King’s Guardswoman facing down the bad side of the war-machine. He didn’t have to think twice.

He sped through the death-fields.

Loki crashed to the ground with a sonic boom. He threw up a wall of ice between Natasha and the Guardswoman and the oncoming machine, reinforcing it with every ounce of his magic and will so that it would hold—

But the machine flew over them.

A fearsome cry echoed across the battlegrounds.

Paired with bright, scarlet magic.

_By the Norns—_

A Scarlet Witch stood before him, fire and flame dancing in her eyes, ready to drop the machine on his head.

“Wait—”

The wind was knocked out of him as Natasha tackled him from behind, throwing Stormbreaker from his hands. She flipped him onto his back. Loki threw up his arms, protecting his face, and just when Natasha was just about to stun him with her over-charged and crackling Widow Bites—

“Thor is dead!”

Natasha stilled.

“You’re lying.”

A spear thrust between them.

“He is not,” the Guardswoman said, “Your Captain already made his decision. We fight as one.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

“If you honestly believe that Loki is on our side—”

“I’m not.”

Loki’s illusion disappeared, leaving the Black Widow straddling the air.

He stepped out of the Scarlet Witch’s shadow, the real Stormbreaker still in hand.

“However,” he flipped over the axe, extending the handle outwards, “I am on my own side.”

Loki smirked.

“My side just happens to correlate well with yours.”

The Scarlet Witch stared at him for a long moment. Her hands pulsated with the sheer weight of her magic, sweat dripping from her forehead. But then, right when he thought her ready to collapse from the strain, she released a heaving yell and tore the hovering machines in half with her power, showering them in a wave of metal and gears.

With barely a thought, his own magic cast a shielded barrier around them.

“Impressive.”

The Scarlet Witch panted and gasped.

“I need… no commendation… from a man.”

He raised a brow.

“Did I ever claim I was one?”

“You say you’re fighting on your side,” she said between heavy breaths, “How can we trust you?”

“Well, I _was_ just about to save your companions lives before you flew in and—”

“Wanda, now!” the Black Widow shouted.

His vision turned scarlet.

Loki felt his mind being tunneled into, searched and questioned. He saw himself as a boy again, clinging onto his mother’s skirts whilst Thor brought over yet another toad to frighten him with. He saw himself as a young man, studying his craft and making books levitate through his bedroom whilst Thor laughed with his friends outside in the courtyard below. He saw himself on Jotunheim, staring into the shocked eyes of a Frost Giant as his armor broke away and revealed blue skin.

He saw himself… _letting go._

And then, he saw himself getting picked up by Thanos’ ship.

He saw himself writhing in agony. He saw himself hanging helpless in the air whilst the Ebony Maw turned his mind against him. He saw himself locked yet again in the boiler room, pleading for the smallest drop of water.

He saw himself crying out as Thor dropped dead.

It should have been _him_ instead.

Loki pushed back.

And he saw the Scarlet Witch— _Wanda_ —skipping to school as her brother, Pietro, kicked an old tin can across the sidewalk. He saw her parents crushed underneath the entire weight of their apartment building, screaming for them to wake up. He saw her brother rummaging through dumpsters, ribs poking out from underneath his shirt. He saw Wanda gripping a soaked and dirtied pamphlet between her shaking hands, requesting volunteers for a clinical trial. He saw Wanda enduring the injections, the pain and suffering of her mind being torn in half and spliced back together over and over and over again.

He saw her dropping to the ground.

He saw her cradling Pietro’s body—

It should have been _her_ instead.

They broke apart.

Wanda’s hand still lingered where Loki’s head had been, fingers still gloved in scarlet magic.

They didn’t need to say a word.

“Wanda?” Natasha looked between them, Widow Bites at the ready, “Can we trust him?”

Her hand dropped.

“Ye—”

Wanda’s face turned white.

She whirled around, turning her attention onto the city looming behind them.

“They have Vision.”

 

* * *

 

Wanda Maximoff was an expert on bad days.

Sometimes, they weren’t all that bad. Sometimes, on these bad days, she’d found herself adding just a little too much paprika to her Chicken Paprikash or forgetting that she had laundry in the dryer. Sometimes though, on these bad days, she’d found herself cradling the body of a loved one.

The bad days added up, until she didn’t have anyone left.

But then she had _Vision._

She descended through the canopy, having answered Shuri’s call of distress as quickly as possible, but despite her best efforts, it hadn’t been fast enough. Steve had reached Vision before her. She counted her blessings for that; but, not even the super-soldier had been fast enough to save her lover before he’d been stabbed through the chest.

Wanda collapsed to her knees beside Vision and cupped his face.

_I can’t lose you too._

Vision pressed his cheek further into her palm.

_I know._

He shuddered and cried out in pain. The infinity stone glowed at his forehead.

Wanda swore she could hear it whispering.

“What?” she asked, despite knowing the answer, “What is it?”

Vision looked scared… even worse, resolved.

_I’m not losing you._

_I don’t think we have a choice._

“He—” Vision cringed and clutched his forehead, “He’s… here.”

“Everyone, on my position,” Steve echoed through their comms, “We have incoming.”

“Is it—” Bruce hesitated, voice crackling through the static.

“Afraid so.”

“…God help us.”

Everyone rushed into the forest.

Sam was the first to arrive, carrying Bucky underneath his arms whilst a jabbering raccoon rode on his shoulders, shortly followed by Rhodey carrying an uprooted tree that moved. T’Challa arrived next with Okoye and W’Kabi flanking his side. Natasha and Bruce were amongst the last to reach their location, but they were all there.

Avengers Assembled.

Wanda almost smiled.

Until the Earth stilled.

And Thanos stepped through a portal.

“Eyes up,” Steve raised his shield, “Stay sharp.”

T’Challa crossed his arms over his chest, vibranium claws glinting in the sunlight.

“ _Hamba!_ ”

He dropped them, and they charged forward.

Bruce pulled back his fist, releasing a loud battle cry. Thanos’ gauntlet glowed.

And Bruce phased right through him.

Wanda looked on, horrified.

Vision clasped her hands.

“It’s time.”

“No.”

“They can’t stop him, Wanda—”

She trembled.

“ _No._ ”

“But we can,” Vision squeezed her hands, pleading, “You have the power to destroy the stone. It has to be you.”

Her voice broke.

“I can’t.”

“You must,” Vision’s voice turned soft, “Wanda— _Wanda_ , look at me.”

She did.

And she nearly shattered.

Vision was trembling, either from pain or fear, she didn’t know. But his eyes… those eyes as yellow as sunshine, as yellow as daffodils and canaries, as yellow as the happiness that burst through her chest whenever she looked at him… they were firm and resolute. She hadn’t seen it before. She had refused to see it before, but he was willing to give up his life, his soul, so that she may live on.

Vis had only just been given life. How could the universe take it away from him?

_Take me instead. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Throw me off a cliff, for all I care. Just please… don’t make him do this._

“It shouldn’t be you,” Vision whispered, pressing her hand to his cheek, “It’s not fair. It shouldn’t be you, but it is… If he gets the stone, half the universe dies.”

“Vis—”

“We are out of time,” he smiled and kissed her wrist, “But I wouldn’t have traded away any second of it.”

Wanda sobbed.

She slipped her fingers down his jaw, lingering at his lips, and stepped backwards.

“It’s alright,” Vision reassured, “You could never hurt me.”

Her hands glowed scarlet.

“I just feel you.”

She unleashed her power.

Everyone was falling behind her. She could hear Bucky firing shot-after-shot in a rampage of bullets. She could hear Okoye releasing a feral scream. She could hear Steve struggling underneath the weight of the Mad Titan’s strength. She could hear bones bending and snapping—

She heard herself screaming.

But all she saw was Vision.

“I love you,” Wanda repeated over and over and over until her mouth ran dry and, even then, she said it once more, “ _Ani ohevet otakh._ ”

Steve was tossed to the ground in front of her, unconscious.

Wanda whirled around and tapped into every last drop of her powers. She screamed in the face of the universe, at what it was making her do, and pushed Thanos back with everything she had. She looked back to Vision, the stone trembling and crackling—

“It’s alright,” he whispered over and over, “It’s okay.”

Her vision blurred.

“Vis.”

“Wanda, I—”

The stone shattered.

And so did Vision.

Wanda collapsed to her knees.

Thanos crouched down beside her, looking at the crater that had once been her lover, “I understand, my child… Perhaps, better than anyone.”

“You could never.”

He touched the top of her head, comforting. She wished she’d had the energy to respond.

“Today, I lost more than you can know,” Thanos stood up, “But now is no time to mourn.”

The gauntlet glowed green.

“Now… is no time at all.”

Time reversed in front of her.

Wanda watched as Vision was put back together piece-by-piece, gasping and gurgling with momentary life, before Thanos ripped the now-unshattered Infinity Stone from his forehead.

“NO!” Wanda reached forward.

But she was too late as she watched him die for the second time that minute.

“Vis—” Wanda crawled towards him, feeling cold and sick and empty. She cradled his body in her arms, “Vision. Vision, honey…”

He didn’t respond.

Wanda pressed her forehead into his chest, once thrumming with life and color now turned ghost-white, and grieved. They had failed. _She_ had failed. Vision had died for nothing.

Ice-cold wind flashed past her.

Thanos howled.

She looked behind her.

_Loki._

They locked eyes, as if she had spoken his name out loud.

_Make him pay._

The Asgardian nodded and forced Stormbreaker deeper into Thanos’ heart.

“For… Thor,” he seethed, leaning in close to Thanos’ ear, “Say hello to Hela for me.”

Thanos choked on his own blood, gasping and whispering—

“You… should have gone for the head.”

_Snap._

 

* * *

 

Thanos found himself transported to another world. Gone was Stormbreaker, gone was the wound. All that remained was him… and the water surrounding his feet.

He had never been here before, and yet, it felt familiar all the same.

He walked.

He wasn’t sure for how long, but he walked.

There was nothing else to do.

There was nothing else to see.

That was, until he came across a hammock tied between two palm trees.

Now, he knew how he recognized this place.

Thanos rounded the corner, heart dropping into his stomach like a body thrown from a cliff, and came across Nebula. She was a child again, swinging gently inside the hammock he’d found her in all those years ago.

She clutched a doll made of dried leaves to her chest.

“Daughter?”

Nebula looked at him.

Gone were the adjustments. Gone were the upgrades. Gone was the perfect soldier that he had created.

“Did you do it?”

Thanos sunk to his knees.

“Yes.”

Nebula stopped swinging. Her lower lip trembled.

“What did it cost?”

“...Everything.”

 

* * *

 

James Buchanan Barnes had only just turned a hundred a couple of months ago, believe it or not, but nothing in the world could have prepared him for this. The battle had turned quiet. The war they had left behind and the war that waged on ahead of them had turned quiet. No machines. No alien creatures. No whirring of electricity or the chiming of songbirds.

Nothing.

“Bucky?”

He turned to where Steve was approaching him, shield in hand.

Steve’s eyes darted around confused, before locking onto him.

A moment passed. A second where they had thought that they had Thanos beat. They smiled at each other.

Until Steve collapsed into a pile of dust.

“Steve!” Bucky rushed forward, hand reaching out towards him and the other firmly gripping onto his gun; but, he was too late.

 _No_.

The line couldn’t stop here.

Bucky ran through the trees, witnessing but not reacting to Groot clinging onto Rocket as the talking raccoon disappeared. He heard Sam calling out for Rhodey. The Hulk-Buster laid open and empty.

Bucky felt his mind growing cold, winter settling in.

But he remained a man, not a soldier.

“James,” a weak voice whispered.

Natasha stumbled out of the bushes.

“Nat.”

He dropped his weapon as she collapsed into him, tumbling the both of them into the ground.

This wasn’t happening.

Hydra had once taken everything from him. His mind, his memories, his very soul. Bucky had only just gotten his life back together— had only just been reunited with once-long-lost friends— and now Thanos had to come along and take them away.

“I’m sorry,” his voice turned low, barely audible to the untrained ear, “I’d never meant to forget.”

“I always knew you would though,” Natasha murmured, slipping off her Widow Bites and pushing them into his chest, “You know… if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve danced at all.”

He gripped her hand.

“All you’d needed was the right partner.”

Natasha laughed and squeezed his hand.

“Kick Thanos’ ass for me, will you? And—And tell Clint,” she forced a grin, “I’ll see him on the other side.”

Natasha disappeared, nothing more than dust in the wind.

 

* * *

 

T’Challa ran.

The dust that used to be Okoye and W’Kabi lingered on his fingertips. No one was answering his calls. Loki remained frozen stiff on the ground, Stormbreaker all bloodied and worn still clutched tightly in hand. Wanda kept caressing Vision’s broken face. Everyone else was either dust or… processing.

Shuri wasn’t answering.

T’Challa watched as half his army joined their ancestors. He watched as M’Baku pressed a fist against his chest and collapsed where he stood. He watched as Wakanda fell into pieces.

And still, he ran.

He dug his vibranium claws into the side of the building and hoisted himself up. 

“Shuri!”

He climbed, because there was nothing else he could do.

T’Challa smashed through the window on the top floor into his sister’s lab, throwing himself inside.

“Shuri!”

“Brother!”

Shuri stood pressed against the wall, holding her bleeding ear as what remained of her guards and the monsters they’d defeated turned into dust.

T’Challa crashed into her, pressing Shuri’s face into his chest.

“Don’t look. Don’t look—”

Shuri pushed back and cradled the sides of his face.

“Brother, what is happening?” blood traveled down the side of her neck, “What is going on?”

It seemed that, for once, Shuri didn’t have all the answers.

T’Challa pulled her against him once more and looked around the empty room.

“Oh, Bast…”

 

* * *

 

The universe was screaming.

Peter B. Parker rubbed his forehead.

His Spider-Sense was going all haywire on him, warning of an oncoming danger that he couldn’t perceive. They were stranded on Titan, sure. Their plan to stop that big purple guy hadn’t exactly gone all that great either. But they were fine! They’d all survived anyways, right?

The Guardians were bickering amongst themselves.

Dr. Strange was acting a little bit like a character out of Harry Potter, but that was no different from usual, right? Right! And Mr. Stark had been stabbed, but that was okay. The nanotech had patched him up and he was fine! Right? Ri—

Tony Stark collapsed.

Peter’s head was pounding.

“Mr. Stark!” he scrambled over to him and held him up by his shoulders, “Mr. Stark, are you alright? Oh God, are you bleeding internally? I don’t know how to do surgery—”

The Guardians stopped arguing.

“…Ain’t that a good thing, though?” Quill whispered to Gamora, “That’s where the bleeding is supposed to be.”

She punched his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

Peter ignored them.

“Don’t worry kiddo,” Tony forced a grin, but he was clinging onto his shoulders far too tight, “I just… don’t feel too hot.”

Peter searched desperately over his shoulder.

“Is anyone here a doctor?!”

Within the blink of an eye, Dr. Strange was beside them; but, he wasn’t doing anything.

All he did was look Mr. Stark in the eyes and hold up two fingers.

“Not exactly the best time to flash me a peace sign, doc,” Tony quipped but his eyes were wide and his skin had grown pale, “Peter—”

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. _He couldn’t breathe._

“Peter,” Tony grabbed him by the collar of his suit, “Listen to me.”

“Uncle Ben—”

“Listen,” Tony forced what remained of his Iron Man helmet into his arms, “Breathe, Peter. S’gonna be okay. I believe in you, Spider-Man. I believe—”

He collapsed into dust.

Peter’s heart stopped.

He’d killed Iron Man. He’d let Tony Stark die.

Dr. Strange placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome to the Avengers.”


	7. VII. FURY

Nicholas J. Fury was not having a good day, and unbeknownst to him, his day was about to get a whole lot worse.

What was left of SHIELD had been keeping tabs on the Thanos situation since the initial invasion had occurred. Fury trusted the Avengers to handle things as best they could, but it was hard not to worry when the most notable members of the team had gone silent out of nowhere.

“Still no word from Stark?” he asked Hill.

“Not yet,” she responded. “We’re watching every satellite on both hemispheres, but still nothing.”

She had scarcely finished her sentence, when suddenly her communicator started beeping in alarm.

“What is it?” Fury asked, as Hill pulled it out of her jacket, looking at the blinking red dots on the screen.

“Multiple bogies over Wakanda,” Maria answered, her brow furrowing in concern. 

“Same energy signature as New York?” Fury inquired.

Maria hesitated.

“Ten times bigger,” was her breathless reply.

The wheels in Fury’s head were already starting to turn -- assessing this change in the situation. It only took him a moment to reevaluate how they were going to proceed with this threat.

“Tell Klein we’ll meet him at --”

“Nick! Nick!!” Maria cried out in alarm, warning him of the car that had suddenly swerved directly into their path.

“Whoa!!”

Fury managed to stop the car before it could collide with the other, and both he and Hill climbed out of the vehicle to investigate. 

Fury lingered back for a moment, while Maria went ahead, slowly and carefully approaching the car in case whoever was inside was hostile. 

But when she made her way around to the driver’s side window, she peered in to discover something peculiar...and bone-chilling.

The car was completely empty.

“They okay?” Fury asked. For a moment, Maria didn’t know how to respond.

“There’s...there’s no one here,” she said finally, turning back to face Fury in disbelief.

Fury barely had time to process this information, before he turned towards the sudden and unmistakable sound of a helicopter rotor as it neared the ground -- too quickly.

He turned just in time to see the helicopter coming down, shaking erratically before it crashed into the side of a building and exploded. Bystanders immediately started to panic; people were screaming and fleeing the streets.

“Call Control,” Fury told Hill gravely, without looking at her. “Code red.”

“Nick…” Maria said, and he turned around to face her.

But she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at a man who had just stepped out of his car, ready to flee. His arms were gradually turning to dust. The poor man could only stare helplessly, as his entire body dissolved, and within moments he was gone -- as if he had never been there.

Fury stared at the spot where the man had once been, and for once in his life, he was dumbstruck.

Hill was quick to obey his instructions, switching on her communicator and calling in the code red. 

But Fury knew then -- this was bigger than a code red.

He turned around, only to immediately stumble through the remnants of another bystander who had turned to dust as they scattered into the wind. He didn’t let it faze him, striding determinedly around to the back of the SHIELD vehicle. He pulled the side door open and grabbed a small device out of the open bag he had left in the backseat -- just in case.

For a moment, he held the device in the palm of his hand, almost reverently. It had long since been remodified into a homing beacon, but it had once been an old-style pager.

“I’d say this damn well counts as an emergency,” he murmured under his breath, as he pressed the ‘send’ button.

He watched the tiny rectangular screen, as for a long moment it showed ‘SENDING…’ in block letters.

Fury held his breath. He was not a man of faith, but in that moment he prayed that its wiring hadn’t broken down over twenty years. 

But after a minute had passed, the screen lit up a brilliant red and blue, and a familiar gold star appeared in the middle.

Fury breathed a soft sigh of relief, and for a moment he almost smiled.

It had worked. Wherever she was in the universe, she would come.

~

“I used to be a respected scientist,” Hank Pym told his wife, Janet Van Dyne. “I had my name on the sides of buildings. “And now...now, I’ve got this.”

‘This’ in question was a weathered old Volkswagen van with the words X-CON emblazoned on the side of it. The back doors were wide open, revealing what appeared to be a powerful generator in the back of it. 

“Well, you wanted a smaller quantum tunnel,” Janet pointed out, barely able to disguise her smile. “This is...definitely smaller.”

The van suddenly started to sing out its familiar honk, set to the tune of ‘La Cucaracha.’

“Sorry!” called out Scott Lang, as he climbed out of the driver’s side. “My bad.”

Janet wanted to laugh at his antics, but instead she glanced over to once again meet her husband’s eyes.

“I think it has...flair,” she admitted, and Hank merely sighed in defeat.

“Alright, controls are online,” Scott informed the couple as he made his way over to them. Standing by the side of the vehicle was their daughter -- and his lover -- Hope Van Dyne, fully decked out in her Wasp suit. 

“The collection unit activates when it’s decoupled,” she explained to him, clearly not for the first time. “Once I do that, it should automatically start absorbing quantum healing particles.”

“Hope, before you go in there,” Janet told her daughter, taking a step closer to her. “Make sure you stay away from the tardigrade fields. They’re cute, but they’ll eat you.”

Hope couldn’t help but smile. It was nice, having her mom back to tell her these things after being gone, though dead, for so long.

“I know, Mom,” she replied reassuringly.

“Oh, and don’t get sucked into a time vortex!” Janet added, while Scott was readying the quantum tunnel for use. “We won’t be able to save you.”

Hope nodded in understanding. She turned towards the tunnel -- only to find Scott standing in front of her.

“Are you sure you’re good with this?” he asked her. “Cause I can still totally go in there…”

Hope laughed, and quieted him with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Don’t worry. I’ll literally be back before you have time to miss me.”

Scott still seemed uncertain, but he nodded and returned the smile, before he made his way over to join Janet and Hank at the control panel.

“Okay, here we go,” Scott said. “Going subatomic in five…”

Hope activated her helmet, and readied her Wasp wings.

“Four...three…”

She stared directly into the mass of swirling colors that was the gateway to the quantum realm. She was ready for this. She was born for this.

“Two...one.”

Scott pulled the lever, and Hope was immediately sucked into the quantum tunnel, becoming smaller and smaller until she was barely the size of a single atom.

She was in the quantum realm.

After a brief second of silence, Hank picked up the repurposed microphone, that had a connection to the mic inside Hope’s helmet.

“Okay, Hope, this is a mic check,” he said into the mic. 

He, Janet, and Scott all had similar earpieces, and they listened for a breathless, silent moment as they waited for Hope to respond.

“Mic check!” her voice finally rang out. “I hear you, Dad. Can you guys hear me okay?”

All three of them breathed sighs of relief.

“We read you loud and clear, Hope,” Hank responded, and he couldn’t hold back a proud smile. 

Hope immediately decoupled the collection unit, watching as it opened and began to take in glowing particles of quantum energy. It was an eerily beautiful sight to behold.

It was taking in energy so quickly, that Hope only needed to leave it open for a few seconds before it was completely full, and she quickly put the cap back onto it to seal the energy inside.

“Okay, healing particles secured,” Hope said into her mic. “This should be more than enough to tide Ava over for a while.”

“Great,” Scott said brightly, clearly eager to bring Hope back as soon as possible. “Preparing for re-entry in five...four...three…”

All at once, Scott’s mic connection cut out, and Hope was left in silence.

“...Hello?” Hope said in confusion. “Scott? This had better not be some kind of joke.”

Still, there was only silence.

“Dad?” Hope called out. “Can you read me? Mom? What’s happening up there?”

Hope had no way of knowing that both of her parents and Scott had all, without warning, dissolved into nothingness -- leaving only piles of ashes behind.

Even then, it didn’t take long for her to realize that something was horribly wrong.

“Bring me up!! Mom, Dad, please, bring me up!!”

Even as she cried out, she had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew nobody was going to bring her up. 

She was trapped in the quantum realm. Like her mother before her.

“Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no…” she whispered as panic started to set in. “No!!”

But there was no human on Earth that would be able to hear her scream.

~

The Barton farm was an idyllic little place surrounded by trees -- effectively, in the middle of nowhere.

Clint had always planned it that way. He knew, in his line of work, having a family was a dangerous practice. His beloved wife Laura, his children, they would all be put in danger.

So he came up with a way to keep them safe, no matter what.

In moments like this, when they were all out in the fields together on a family picnic, the sense of solitude was more than welcome. 

Lila, his only daughter, had a recurve bow in her hand, the perfect size for her petite frame. He’d always had a feeling that at least one of his kids would inherit his skill for archery, and Lila seemed to be the prime candidate. 

With an arrow notched, Lila had her gloved hand in the perfect position as she took aim at the makeshift target Clint had set up on a nearby tree.

“Okay...hold on, don’t shoot yet,” he instructed her. “You see where you’re going?”

“Mm-hmm,” Lila affirmed, without moving.

“Okay, good,” Clint said, as he moved to stand beside her. “Now let’s worry about how you get there.”

At the picnic table, Laura was preparing hot dogs and watching them from afar, unable to keep herself from smiling as Clint helped Lila adjust her stance, and as she lowered her bow he was teasing her by moving a strand of hair in front of her face to make her laugh. 

In front of Laura, Cooper was tossing a ball back and forth with his little brother, Nathaniel. He was getting so big now, Laura could hardly believe it. It felt like only yesterday that he had been a newborn baby. Now he was nearly five, and could toss a ball to his older brother with ease.

“Great throw, kiddo!” she told Nathaniel encouragingly, as Cooper gently tossed the ball back to him and he caught it in his oversized glove. She turned back towards Clint and Lila, who was already starting to take aim at the target again.

“Hey!” she called out to them. “Do you guys want mayo, or mustard?”

She could practically hear Lila now, wondering who would want mayo on a hot dog. Clint wouldn’t let on and try to pin it on the boys, but Laura knew that it was Clint himself who had a taste for it. One of many weird, quirky things about him that she absolutely adored.

“Two mustard, please!” Clint called back. “Thanks, babe!”

“Got it!” she affirmed with a smile, turning back to Cooper and Nathaniel. “How about you, Nate, you want mayo or mustard?”

“I want ketchup!” Nathaniel told his mother, and Laura had to laugh.

“Alright, ketchup it is, then,” she agreed.

She glanced up, just in time to see Lila take her shot -- boom, bullseye.

Her smile widened. 

Lila idolized her father. She had always said she wanted to be just like him, from the time she was little. Even from the distance, Laura saw the delight on Lila’s face, and the pride in Clint’s eyes, and it warmed her heart.

“Okay, guys, that’s enough practice!” she called them, as Lila scurried over to the tree to grab her arrow. “Soup’s on!”

“Alright, we’re coming!” Clint balled back. “We’re hungry!”

Laura turned to get all the plates and bowls in order, making sure everything was set right.

“Nate, Coop, come get your food!” she said, turning back towards the boys.

But the boys were gone.

Stopping in confusion, Laura looked around. There was nowhere that they could have gone to, at least not in the amount of time she’d looked away from them. 

The only thing she could see was a smattering of what looked like dust -- just wheat, she tried to tell herself, from the farm; it had to have been -- vaguely in the shape of her children, before it settled into the grass.

“Boys?” she called out again, and her gaze flickered over to the tree where Clint and Lila had been practicing. 

“Clint!” she cried, breaking into a run as she headed straight for the tree. “Lila!”

Lila was nowhere to be seen. Clint was nowhere to be seen.

“Clint, honey, where are you?!” she exclaimed as she turned back towards the field, searching for any trace of her family -- and becoming more and more panicked by the second.

Where were they? Where could they have gone? One second they were there, and then the next…

“Clint!!” she cried out into the empty field. 

But they were gone. 

They were gone. 

Laura was alone.

~

Wanda sat on the ground, cradling Vision’s broken body, for a long time. 

There was nothing else she could do. 

She could vaguely hear the voices of Sam and Bucky, trying to figure out where to go from here. In her periphery, she could see the figures of Loki and his tree friend sitting next to each other, silently comforting each other through their state of shock.

But it all felt like she was sitting underwater. Nothing was clearly defined. It was as if she was sinking, deeper and deeper, with no hope of resurfacing again.

And then, all at once, a voice directly in her ear abruptly shattered her reverie. 

“Wanda, are you there? Can you hear me?”

Wanda blinked, and after a moment she recognized the voice coming through her earpiece.

Shuri.

She had watched T’Challa run back towards the lab, hoping to find his sister. There was a sense of relief in knowing that the Wakandan princess had survived the Snap.

Slowly, Wanda lifted a hand to her ear.

“I hear you,” she responded. 

“Good,” Shuri said, sounding visibly relieved to hear from Wanda. “I need you to bring Vision back to the lab.”

Almost involuntarily, Wanda’s eyes immediately fell to the body of her lover, now devoid of all color, and her heart sank into her stomach.

“Vision is dead,” she told Shuri, trying to keep her voice from breaking.

“I know,” Shuri said, without missing a beat. “But I can save him.”

Wanda’s breath caught in her throat. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Shuri’s voice as she made that statement. She hadn’t said ‘I think I can save him.’ Or even ‘I might be able to save him.’ She had said, with certainty, that she could save him. 

Wanda hadn’t known her for very long, but she knew that between Shuri’s skill as an inventor and the advanced technology of Wakanda, Wanda was inclined to believe her claim.

“I’m on my way.”

Once she finally managed to drag herself onto her feet, Wanda gathered Vision’s shell into her arms, and started walking.

~

Wanda stared, awestruck, at the holographic image projected in front of her -- a perfect blueprint of Vision’s entire being. 

“How did you manage to do this?” she wondered aloud.

Shuri stepped closer to Wanda, watching as her machine whirred around Vision’s body. “When I analyzed the Mind Stone for Dr. Banner, I took the liberty of duplicating Vision’s main systems while I was at it.”

For a moment, Wanda was further astonished. Shuri made the act of replicating the software of a sentient, higher form of android sound like a simple task -- though Wanda imagined that for Shuri, it was. 

Shuri noted Wanda’s amazement, and despite everything, cracked a slight smile.

“Vision is one of the most incredible pieces of tech I’ve ever encountered,” she elaborated. “I couldn’t allow him to be destroyed permanently, and so I had to have a backup plan in case the worst happened. And now...here we are.”

Wanda glanced back over towards the machine, watching as the hologram Shuri had conjured aligned itself with Vision’s shell, and gradually the two began to merge together.

“Will he be able to survive without the Mind Stone?” Wanda asked.

“The Stone was little more than a source of energy,” Shuri explained. “I’ve found a reliable substitute.”

She paused for a moment and met Wanda’s eyes, giving her a warm smile.

“It was never the Stone that gave Vision his soul, Wanda,” Shuri told her. “It was you.”

The sentiment caught Wanda off guard, but it moved her nonetheless, and she smiled.

The machine began to light up, and the two women watched as Vision and the blueprint became one with each other, and within moments, Vision was restored to his former brilliant color. The only major difference in his appearance was the apparent absence of the Mind Stone; replaced with a flat, green oval where it had once been in the centre of his forehead.

As the process was completed, the machine opened its sides and Vision started to move again. Within an instant, Wanda was at his side.

“Viz...” she whispered, watching as Vision stirred, slowly opening his eyes and flexing his hands as he regained his bearings, taking in his surroundings.

Then his eyes settled on Wanda, and immediately softened with recognition.

“Wanda,” he murmured softly.

He began to sit up, already reaching for her, and she wrapped him tightly in her arms. She could barely believe that this was real. Tears of joy were stinging at her eyes.

“You’re alive,” she almost sobbed with relief, and Vision pressed his face into her hair as they held each other for a long moment. 

“What happened?” Vision asked, finally lifting his head to meet Wanda’s gaze properly again; though his hand lingered at the back of her neck.

Wanda wanted to spare him the more gruesome details of what exactly had transpired on the battlefield. Vision may have been a synthetic being, but he could suffer, and knowing he had died not once, but twice, would likely take a toll on him.

“We lost,” she admitted, loosening her hold on him and taking a step back, to let him see that Shuri was there with them. “But Shuri saved you.”

Shuri didn’t seem bothered by bearing witness to their intimate reunion, instead smiling widely at Vision as she moved a bit closer.

As he met the younger girl’s eyes, Vision didn’t seem at all surprised to find out this information.

“I truly cannot thank you enough, Shuri,” he told her. 

“Neither can I,” Wanda agreed, taking Vision’s hand in hers.

“It was nothing,” Shuri replied. “You’ll just have to let me keep an eye on your upgraded system, in case there’s any anomalies.”

As soon as she finished her sentence, her Kimoyo beads lit up with a message. She lifted her wrist, and a hologram of T’Challa appeared before her.

“What is it, brother?” she asked, her expression growing more grave. Though the moment of levity had been more than welcome, she knew that her brother had come to her with no doubt an important update on the state of things.

“We’ve received an emergency signal from Nick Fury,” T’Challa informed her. “We’re all to go to the New York headquarters, immediately.”

Shuri exchanged a look with Wanda and Vision, before looking back at her brother.

“We’ll be ready.”

~

The pager that was now functioning as a homing beacon had been placed into a monitor to keep it running, so that Fury could keep an eye -- no pun intended -- on its activity.

Fury was now trying to do damage control with the rest of the council -- or what was left of it. In the meantime, the remaining Avengers and their new recruits were left to keep tabs on the developing situation.

Sam was watching with a sense of helplessness as the number of people taken by the Snap increased by the millisecond on the nearby communications screen.

“This is a nightmare,” he said softly, as Wanda moved to stand beside him.

“I’ve had better nightmares,” Wanda murmured in agreement, meeting Sam’s eyes as they shared a look of desperation.

Both of them were thinking the same thing -- they had failed. They had let this happen.

“Hey,” a voice said, and both of them turned towards the figure who had just stepped through the doorway.

It was Bucky.

“That...thing just stopped doing whatever the hell it was doing,” he informed them. 

Sam and Wanda exchanged a look, and let Bucky lead them back across the hall to where the beacon was being kept.

“Oh, my God…” Wanda whispered, as she saw that the screen had gone dark. The colorful emblem that had been displayed on it was gone.

“Whatever signal it was sending just...stopped,” Shuri told them. “Just like that.”

“I thought you bypassed the battery,” Sam pointed out, and Shuri gave him a look.

“I did,” she said. “It’s still plugged in. It just...stopped.”

Sam understood. 

“See if you can reboot it,” he told her. “Run the signal again.”

“Sam,” Bucky spoke up. “We have no idea what this thing even is.”

“Aside from primitive technology,” Shuri muttered under her breath.

“That may be,” Wanda responded to Bucky. “But Fury does. We have to trust his judgement.”

She turned towards Shuri, who was already tinkering with the controls on the monitor. 

“Let me know as soon as you get a signal, please,” she requested. “I want to know who is on the other end of this thing.”

Shuri nodded, and Wanda turned to leave the room -- only to come face-to-face with a woman she had never seen before.

A tall, blonde woman clad in armor, bearing the same colors and emblem that had appeared on the beacon’s screen.

Wanda’s breath caught, and everyone else in the room could only stare as the stranger regarded her with intense eyes.

“Where’s Fury?” 

“Right here.”

The woman turned, finding Fury now standing in the open doorway. 

Everyone else was silent, as Fury shared a look with this woman that told of a storied history.

Slowly, the blonde woman approached him, and anyone looking close might have seen her just barely smirk.

“Look at you,” she observed, a hint of fondness creeping into her formerly cold voice. “You look like shit, Fury.”

“Yeah, the years weren’t kind,” Fury replied, almost amused. “It was all downhill after your damn cat clawed my eye out.”

The woman actually smiled, and she and Fury gripped each other by the wrist -- an age-old gesture of respect.

“It’s good to see you, Carol,” Fury told her. “I’d say I pity the circumstances, but it was always going to take something cataclysmic to bring you back to Earth.”

That was a whole lot of information for the other members of the team to absorb in less than a minute, it was hard to know where to start when asking questions.

“Hold on a minute,” Sam piped up. “You lost your eye...to a cat?!”


	8. VIII. PETER

“Hello? Is this thing on?”

_Tap. Tap._

“Testing. Testing : one, two, three,” Peter Parker stuck out his tongue, blindly tinkering around inside the Iron Man helmet, “Testing. Testing— Oh, come on, you useless piece of—”

_Thunk._

“Finally,” he let out a frustrated breath and leaned back, “F.R.I.D.A.Y initialize _Another One Bites the Dust_ Protocol, external video sequence three.”

The helmet whirled to life. The eyes glowed, giving the disembodied head an almost possessed appearance, as it inspected him. 

_Scanning…_

_Scanning…_

_Access Denied : Unauthorized User._

_Initializing Self-Destruct Sequence in ten, nine—_

“Wait— No, no, no—“ Peter pulled on the mask of his Iron Spider-Suit, “Karen, what do I do? _What do I do?!_ We’ve got to stop her!”

“Calm down, Peter,” the AI responded, “Breathe.”

_Seven, six, five—_

“She’s gonna explode!”

“Repeat after me,” Karen simply continued, as calm and cool as ever, “ _Execute Override : Hi, Welcome to Burger King_.”

Peter Parker’s soul left his body.

“Karen, what the f—“

_Three, two, o—_

“Execute Override! Execute Override!” Peter grabbed the helmet and nearly crushed it in his panicked frenzy, “Hi, Welcome to Burger King!”

_… Self-Destruct Sequence : Paused._

_How may I take your order?_

“Seriously, Mr. Stark?” Peter whispered underneath his breath in disbelief, “Okay, Karen… what do I do next?”

“Tell her : Give me two Double Cheeseburgers, a Whopper, a large fry, and a Dr. Pepper. Oh, and hold the tomato, will you? _Ketchup_ , fine. Tomato, no. And you know what? Throw in one of your apple pies too. I’m craving a piece of America tonight.”

“Exactly like that?” 

“Exactly like that, Peter.”

He groaned.

“Alright, Spider-Man,” he rolled back his shoulders and looked the helmet square in the eyes, “Give me two Double Cheeseburgers, a Whopper, a large fry, and a Dr. Pepper. Oh, and hold the tomato, will you? _Ketchup_ , fine. Tomato, no. And you know what? Throw in one of your apple pies too. I’m craving a piece of America tonight.”

_Processing order…_

_Access Granted: Enjoy your meal, Mr. Stark._

Peter slumped back and let out a deep breath.

“Thanks Karen,” he set down the helmet and took off the mask, “Now, comes the hard part.”

Peter ran his hands through his hair.

Okay, Spider-Man, let’s do this.

“...Hi, Aunt May,” he wiggled his fingers towards the camera and forced out a smile, “If you’re watching this, then I’m pretty sure you’ve figured out by now that I didn’t stay on the school bus with Ned. Sorry. I guess I tend to… kind of, run towards danger instead of away from it.”

Peter’s lower lip trembled.

“If you’re seeing this, then… heh, then I guess I didn’t make it back home, huh? I mean, if you’re seeing this, then I probably did. Just not… how either of us would’ve preferred.”

Iron Man stared back at him.

He knew it was just his helmet. He knew that Mr. Stark was no longer here. But being on the receiving end of such a cold, unfeeling gaze unnerved him. Perhaps, even more so _because_ he knew Mr. Stark was no longer here.

Peter looked away.

“It’s my fault,” he covered his mouth, “I— I dunno what else to say. Iron Man is dead… and I killed him, Aunt May. I killed him.”

He snorted, his ribs threatening to burst free from behind his skin.

A couple more days without food and they probably would. 

“I didn’t pull the trigger, but I might as well have. I wasn’t ready for this. All this great power, and I’m just not ready to handle the responsibility,” Peter squeezed his burning eyes shut, growing quiet, “Aunt May… I was there when he died. Uncle Ben. Tony Stark. Does it matter who it is? They’re both dead because I was too stupid to listen. I failed them. They died _because I failed them._ ”

He fell silent.

“...I don’t even know if you’re okay…” his cheeks felt mysteriously wet, “...if you’re alive...or… if you’re… you’re…”

Peter opened his eyes. 

The helmet stared back.

He half-thought for a second that a holographic figure would pop up, pleading. 

_Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope._

“But if you are — alive, I mean — and I’m… not,” Peter breathed in deeply, “I want you to know that you did your best. That this… isn’t your fault. I know you’re technically my aunt, but you’re the best mom I could’ve asked for.”

His voice cracked.

“And Ned? Ned, if you’re there, buddy, you can have my Star Wars collection. The LEGO Millennium Falcon with the Han and Chewie mini-figures, my Luke Skywalker costume, and even the VHS Box Set. Y’know, the one that Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher signed,” the tears were flowing now and showed no sign of stopping, “Maybe you can finally score Harrison Ford.”

He choked.

“And MJ—”

_I like you. I really, really like you._

“I want you to meet Karen,” Peter lifted up the mask, “I’ve already told her all about you and that I—”

He dropped his arm and looked away.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I’m dead, aren’t I?” Peter cracked a smile, “But, if you’re not… then I guess there’s a job opening for a friendly neighborhood spider-person. I might have been bitten by a radioactive spider, but you’re already a hero, MJ. Why not be a super one?”

He leaned back.

“God, that was sappy. I’m just gonna-- I’m gonna go now, okay? Don’t deactivate the Training Wheels Protocol. Ned, I’m trusting you to be her guy in the chair. And Aunt May?” Peter picked up the Iron Man helmet and pressed his forehead against it, “I love you.”

He switched off the power. 

And watched the light fade from Iron Man’s eyes a second time.

 

* * *

 

 

Quill hovered outside the cabin, hand frozen mid-knock.

“Damn it, Starlord,” he groaned underneath his breath, “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

He wasn’t the most qualified person to do this. Hell, he wasn’t even the bare minimum, bottom-of-the-line qualified.

The Guardians didn’t know Peter Parker. They’d been thrown together into a haphazard Thanos-ass-kicking team for all but a couple of hours before the incident occurred. 

They weren’t close. They weren’t family. 

And the past week and a half they’d all spent trying to get their ship into the air and not starve to death in the process, hoping beyond hope that someone would come to their rescue, hadn’t exactly made them all _friends_. But where Quill had the other Guardians to get him through this and vice versa, Peter—

Well, he had no one, didn’t he? Not even the ever quiet and mysterious Dr. Strange.

Nah, Peter was just another orphaned kid surrounded by a group of strange aliens, thinking that he was going to die at any moment. Or eaten.

Yeah, Quill knew exactly what that was like. And probably what made him the most qualified unqualified person to talk to him.

“Hey, Peter B? It’s Peter A.” he rapped his knuckles against the door, “Can I come in?”

Silence.

“Look, man, I don’t wanna go barging in on you or something and see stuff that you an’ I both don’t want to be seeing,” he forced a grin, “And I’ve seen you rummaging underneath my bunk. Now, I’ve got to say that I’ve got some… personal items stashed down there and all—don’t tell Gamora—and I’m not passing any judgments here or nothing, but I too was a teenager. And let me tell you—”

Quill laughed.

“Me plus pretty magazine ladies plus conspicuously shut doors led to some pretty awkward situations for anyone coming through without knocking. So, if you’re not decent or anything please—” the door opened, “…just… let me know…”

Quill trailed off.

“It’s your ship,” Peter said quietly, heading back to his bunk and staring out the window into the vast emptiness of space, “You don’t need my permission to come into your own bedroom.”

Jesus Christ, he looked—he looked—

There weren’t enough words in Quill’s vocabulary to describe how he looked.

But abso-fucking-lutely miserable was certainly one of them.

Quill knew that he hadn’t been eating. He knew that because none of them had been eating. Rations were running low. Dangerously low. Like close to drawing straws on who to eat first kinds of low. But even though he and the other Guardians doubled whatever they could for Peter, the kid had still wasted away to nothing. They had at least another week until they starved to death. Peter had _days_.

But that was a conversation for another time.

“First time, huh?”

Peter looked towards him.

“Seeing someone die, I mean,” Quill hovered awkwardly in the door-frame, “First deaths are always kinda tricky. I didn’t do too well with my first time, either.”

Peter frowned, turning his gaze back to the window.

“It wasn’t my first.”

Quill paused.

“My mom and dad— they died when I was five. I don’t remember much about them. But I know that I loved them and that I still miss them,” Peter grew quieter, “I didn’t see them die though. Heard about it afterwards. But… my Uncle Ben…”

Quill sat down beside him.

“For me, it was my mom,” he looked out the window, a small smile tugging at his lips, “My mom—she was my hero. Man, lemme tell you: she was awesome. One time we were out shopping and she kicked a guy in the nuts. Had to call the ambulance for him.”

Peter’s eyes widened.

“Why did she do that?”

“Because he overheard me asking her for Western Barbie for Christmas. Said it was a girl toy,” Quill snorted, “Of course it was a girl toy! If I wanted a boy toy, I would’ve gotten Ken.”

That made Peter laugh. Maybe he wasn’t as bad at this as he’d thought.

“My mom—You would’ve liked her. She wore this badass leather jacket—fire red, black zippers— that she won in an arm-wrestling match. Rode a motorcycle in her wedding dress to church. She took me outta school early once so that we could go get ice-cream. I wanted to be her when I grew up,” Quill said, lost on memory lane, “I didn’t think there was anything out there that she couldn’t handle.”

But memory lane stopped at a dead end.

“And… there wasn’t,” Quill looked down at his hands, “In the end, the only thing that could take her out was herself.”

Peter reached forward and touched his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Quill forced out a laugh, “Turns out that’s not even true anyways. Nope, got dear old dad to blame for the cancer—ah, but that’s not the point.”

His smile wavered.

“The point is—the point is that my mom, my hero, wasted away right before my eyes and I just… stood there. I watched her die and I couldn’t even hold her hand when she needed me,” Quill looked Peter square in the eye, “And I know it’s cliché and dumb and stupid, but I don’t think there’s anyone else on this ship that knows exactly what you’re going through. So, I’m here for you, Peter.”

He grabbed his hand and held it.

“I’m here.”

Peter crumbled.

Now, Quill didn’t exactly do hugs. He was more of an awkwardly fist-bumping an open palm clearly extended for a handshake kind of guy. At the most, he’d settle for a wizened hand upon the shoulder. But when this poor fucking kid that reminded him so much of himself that they even shared the same name crashed into his chest, sobbing—

Well, Quill decided that he didn’t mind making an exception just this once.

“It should’ve been me! I—I shouldn’t have been there. I should’ve listened to Mr. Stark and stayed on the bus. I’m not an Avenger—I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” Peter stammered, clearly in hysterics, “And now he’s dead because of me. I—I killed Iron Man.”

Quill didn’t know what to do. Did he pat his back? Did he ruffle his hair and tell him it was all going to be okay? He didn’t know, but settling for wrapping his arms around him seemed like a good enough answer.

“It’s not your fault, kid.”

“But I didn’t listen!” he choked, “And now he’s—And now he’s—"

“Peter Parker— _Spider-Man_ —this is not your fault,” Quill forced him back enough to look him in the eye and pressed a finger against his chest, “Now, you listen to me and you listen to me good: you’re what? Fourteen? Fifteen? You’re dumb and reckless. You rush into things without thinking. You’re a teenager. That’s what teenagers do. But you’re not responsible for the actions of adults. You’re not responsible for Thanos. All this?”

He gestured to the window, the emptiness of space.

“That’s on him. Not you,” Quill huffed, “And personally, kid, I didn’t know your Mr. Stark all that well. But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate you sobbing all over him, now would he?”

“Well, actually…”

“Oh, he’s one of those then,” Quill rolled his eyes, “Well, there goes my whole grand analogy. Damn it, and I was doing really good this time around too!”

Peter laughed. Watery and thick with snot, but still… it was a laugh.

“You’re right though.”

“Wait, I am?” Quill asked, surprised, before complete backtracking, “I mean, of course I’m right! Ahaha, just your typical Starlord handing down wisdom and… stuff.”

He rubbed the back of his head.

“But, uh… mind telling me what I’m right about?”

“Mr. Stark would be upset with me,” Peter said, wiping his eyes, “But not about grieving him.”

He stood up and walked over to his bunk. He got down onto his hands and knees, reaching underneath…

And pulled out his spidersuit.

The kid hadn’t worn it since Titan, not since the incident. The nanotech had simply retreated back into the spider-shaped chest-piece and disappeared, at least as far as the Guardians were concerned. Who would’ve thought that it’d been here all this time?

“I thought—I thought that it was hopeless. That no matter what we did, it’d just be pointless. Without Iron Man, that we’d have no chance,” Peter looked down at the spider symbol in his hand. His eyes glistened again but he closed them quickly, shaking it off.

“But I forgot… before he was Iron Man, he was Tony Stark,” he pressed the spider symbol against his chest, the nanosuit bursting out and covering him in glistening armor, “And he escaped a cave in the middle of nowhere against all odds with a box of scraps. So, you know what he’d tell me to do?”

Spider-Man looked back at Starlord, emaciated and weak but standing tall.

“What?”

“Get to work.”

* * *

 

Peter Parker knew that it was hopeless. He knew that their ship was hanging dead in the sky. He knew that rescue was impossible. But, once upon a time, he would’ve said that being bitten by a radioactive spider and being given superpowers was impossible too. 

So, he worked.

He fixed the Oxygen Recycler. He repaired the Water Generator. With the combined efforts of Dr. Strange, Drax, and Gamora, he’d even managed to get the main engine back online. But, success had been fleeting as it quickly sputtered and died seconds thereafter. 

Currently, Peter was working on boiling one of Quill’s leather boots.

They’d officially ran out of food yesterday and he’d read somewhere — maybe in a book, maybe in a graphic novel — that cooking leather made it edible. He’d figured that they’d had nothing else to lose by trying.

Quill had grumbled something about some dude named Rocket being a prophet though.

Peter had paid no mind to it.

Instead, he continued stirring the pot, watching the water boil.

Stirring and stirring and… stirring… and… stirring… and—

His eyes closed.

“Man of the Spider,” Mantis placed her hand on his shoulder and he flinched awake, “You should rest.”

Peter shook his head and grabbed the stirring spoon that had slipped out of his hand.

“But ‘m not tired.”

Mantis’ antennae lit up and flickered.

“Maybe just a little,” he confessed, “But, I need to finish this before I can—”

“Peter, you haven’t slept in three days. You have done so much for us already,” she interrupted quietly, “Please… take a moment for yourself.”

“But the soup—”

“I will keep an eye on Quill’s boot.”

Peter hesitated. 

Even Tony Stark had rested. Maybe not as often as he’d probably should have, but he’d still rested. Maybe it’d be alright then if he just… rested his eyes for a couple of minutes. An hour at most. It’d be alright… perfectly alright…

His vision blurred.

“ _Peter!_ ”

He dropped to the floor.

“Mantis,” he felt someone hoisting them into their arms, but it didn’t immediately register at first. He felt like a ragdoll or a marionette — cognizant, but otherwise forced to succumb to a will outside his own. “I don’t feel so good…”

His head lolled back, giving him a perfect view of the window outside into space.

Something shined, a figure in the light.

“...Mom?”

Peter Parker’s eyes closed.

Somewhere beyond the darkness, a woman was screaming.


	9. IX. CAROL

“Here she comes.”

Nick’s one remaining eye was trained on the glowing figure slowly descending back to Earth. As she drew nearer and nearer, it became clear that she was carrying an entire, dilapidated spacecraft above her head with ease.

Standing alongside Fury were Sam, Bucky, and Wanda, and all three of them watched with rapture as Carol made her descent, soon coming to a landing and placing the ship down on the ground with as light an impact as she could manage. Groot was peeking out from behind Fury’s coat.

As she took a step back from the ship, Carol turned and made direct eye contact with Wanda, projecting a thought straight into her mind -- knowing that Wanda would be able to hear it. 

Wanda’s expression shifted with realization, and she reached for Sam’s arm.

“We need medics,” she told him, her voice a soft, desperate whisper. “Sam, go.”

“I’m on it,” Sam said with a nod, and immediately he turned and made a dead sprint back towards the main building.

The ship’s hatch opened, and as the landing ramp lowered itself several figures came into view.

Peter Quill was the first to disembark, carrying an unconscious, emaciated Peter Parker in his arms. Gamora, Mantis, and Drax were close behind him, with Doctor Strange bringing up the rear.

“Môj Bože…” Wanda breathed, looking over at Bucky. “It’s the boy from Germany.”

“The spider kid?” Bucky asked in disbelief. “Jesus…”

He took a step forward, meeting Quill in the middle.

“Here,” he said, offering his arms to help Quill support Peter. “Let me help.”

Quill was immediately hesitant, drawing back slightly as he gaze flickered from person to person with distrust.

“And just who the hell are you people?”

“We’re the Avengers,” Wanda told him, without missing a beat.

“What’s left of them, anyway,” Fury interjected.

Quill opened his mouth as if he meant to pose a question, but the words died in the back of his throat as realization set in. No sign of Captain America, or any of the other heroes Loki had mentioned. 

What had happened to Stark...it was happening everywhere. These people were the survivors.

He met Bucky’s eyes again, holding his gaze for a moment.

“We’re here to help,” Bucky assured him.

Behind him, Sam was already on his way over, accompanied by a group of medics wheeling a gurney.

Quill relented, allowing Bucky to carefully lift Peter out of his hold. He stood back for a moment and watched as Bucky carried the kid away, taking him to the waiting gurney.

As Fury moved to confer privately with Carol, Groot was now fully visible, waving his arm to get the attention of his friends.

“I am Groot!” he called out, and Gamora rushed over to him.

“Groot!” she exclaimed, lowering herself to wrap him in her arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay…”

The two hugged each other tightly for a moment, before Groot drew back to look into her face, his large eyes looking tearful.

“I am Groot…” he said softly.

Gamora understood immediately.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed softly.

Slowly, she turned towards the others, who were all watching her with interest.

“Rocket?” Drax asked.

Gamora could only shake her head.

Mantis was the first to let out a quiet sob, though she tried to muffle it with the palm of her hand. 

Though his face was pensive, processing the information, Drax reached to comfort Mantis all the same. As she sank against his side, her antennae lit up and stood at attention. 

With his arm around her shoulders, Drax started to sniffle in spite of himself, and Mantis closed her eyes to let tears flow freely down her face.

Quill held Gamora’s gaze for a long moment, before he tore his eyes away.

“Goddamn it…” he muttered under his breath, trying not to think about the last moments he had spent with Rocket.

Instead, he wheeled on Strange.

Until this moment, Strange had been hanging back, assessing those around him even while his mind seemed to be far away. 

Captain Danvers, their savior, was undeniably intriguing; her entire being literally glowing with power unheard of. Even so, the strongest energy belonged to Wanda Maximoff. He could sense the immense chaos magic that thrummed in her veins, and found himself thankful that she was on their side.

His gaze kept flickering towards the distant silhouettes of Wilson and Barnes, as they accompanied the gurney that carried young Parker towards the medical help he desperately needed. 

At least, until he was abruptly broken from his thoughts by Quill seizing him by the collar of his cloak.

“Okay, cut the crap, Houdini,” Quill demanded. “What the hell is your game here? Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor?! You could have helped him!! Instead of just sitting around with your thumb up your --”

“Quill,” Strange said, keeping his voice level yet sharp. “Please.”

The cloak twitched just hard enough to shake loose from Quill’s grip, startling him enough to make him jump back a little.

“If I were capable of helping Peter, I would have,” Strange explained, lifting his hands to show Quill how they shook. “But I’m not. Not anymore.”

He waited until he saw that Quill understood before letting his hands once again drop to his sides.

“I know how it must have looked to you,” Strange continued. “But while we were up there, on the ship, I wasn’t simply meditating. I was trying to contact someone who can help Peter.”

Quill held his gaze for a moment, allowing this to sink in.

“Did you get ahold of them?” he asked.

“Thankfully, I did,” Strange replied, glancing over towards the main building of what was now Avengers HQ. “She’s already here.”

~

“Loki?”

Loki was leaning back in his chair, appearing more relaxed than he actually felt. He had swapped out his trademark armor in favor of some borrowed clothes of Bucky's; blue jeans, T-shirt, a comfortable hoodie.

He had been sitting at that table, in that room, since they had all first arrived at the new headquarters. Just...staring. Deep in his own thoughts. 

Only now, at the sound of his name being spoken, did he finally look up towards the source of the voice.

It was Wanda Maximoff, hovering just inside the doorway. 

“Your friends are here,” she informed him. “Quill, and the others. They’ve been asking after you.”

Loki almost scoffed.

“So they’re my ‘friends’ now, are they?”

Wanda merely shrugged.

“Their words, not mine,” she told him. 

For a moment, a heavy silence hung in the air between them -- something unspoken, that neither of them were keen on revisiting.

Finally, it was Wanda who sighed and broke the silence.

“You’re one of us now, Loki,” she said, moving forward just slightly. “What happened was not your fault…”

Loki’s hand came down hard on the table, and the sound startled Wanda enough to make her step back again.

“I had him,” Loki hissed, dragging himself to his feet. “He was right there. I sank my blade into his flesh, I could have killed him right then!”

He loomed over Wanda, but she merely stared up at him. Unafraid.

He drew a ragged breath.

“But I failed,” he breathed out, nearly choking on the words. “I failed everyone. I was never meant to be the hero. Thor was, and now he’s dead, and I couldn’t even avenge him.”

“You still can!” Wanda burst out. 

“Why should it matter?” Loki growled.

“You know why,” she told him. “We looked into each other’s minds. You saw everything.”

With a snarl of frustration, Loki turned away from her, but she wouldn’t relent so easily.

“I lost my brother too,” she pressed on. “I felt those bullets rip through his body, like it was my own. I couldn’t save him, and there is not a day that goes by where I don’t relive that moment and wish more than anything I could change it.”

The more words tumbled out of her, the more they started to choke her, until she had to take a breath to steady herself again.

“Do you know what I did to the monster that killed him?” 

Loki slowly turned towards her again.

“I tore his heart out with my bare hands,” Wanda whispered. 

As the two of them held eye contact for an intense moment, Wanda stepped closer to him again.

“Thanos will pay for what he’s done,” she told him, and it was not a statement -- it was a promise.

~

Strange had been pacing the floor for the better part of an hour, wondering how he would approach this situation. What he would say. 

What could he say?

He was so deeply embroiled in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t notice when the door finally opened and Dr. Christine Palmer walked into the room.

He turned towards her, and their eyes met. For a heavy moment, neither of them moved or spoke. It was unclear if either one of them could even draw a breath.

Without warning, the Cloak of Levitation loosed itself from Strange’s shoulders and flew across the room, wrapping itself around Christine as if it were hugging her.

Instantly, the tension was broken, and despite herself Christine couldn’t help but laugh, as the cloak pulled her across the room until she was standing directly in front of Strange.

“We were...supposed to be playing it cool,” Strange muttered, though the ghost of a smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth.

Still wrapped in the cloak, Christine lifted her head, giving him a wide smile.

“Hi, Stephen,” she greeted him finally.

The cloak let go of her at last, once again floating to take its rightful place around Strange’s shoulders.

“Christine…” he said softly, momentarily losing focus as he gazed into her face. “I’m so glad that you’re here.”

“Me, too,” Christine admitted. “I never thought I would miss having you randomly pop into my head, but...I guess I just appreciate the reassurance that you’re not dead.”

Stephen smiled at her. He couldn’t remember the last time he really, truly smiled...but if anyone could bring that out of him, it was Christine.

“He’s stable, by the way,” she continued, her expression growing more serious. “The boy, Peter. It’ll take a couple of days, but he’ll recover.”

Strange was visibly relieved. “Christine, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” she told him, immediately. “You know me, all I’ve ever wanted to do is help people.”

She paused for the briefest moment, but her curiosity was written all over her face.

“Stephen, how in the world did he…”

“It’s...hard to explain,” he cut her off, gently. “But I promise you, as soon as all this is over, I’ll tell you everything.”

Christine’s brow furrowed. “All of this seems pretty...final, to me.”

“It’s not over until we’ve fought to the very last,” Stephen told her. “If there’s the slightest chance and hope that we can undo what’s been done, we have to take it.”

She saw something in his eyes as he spoke, and realization dawned.

“You’ve seen something,” she breathed. “In the future. Haven’t you?”

Stephen shook his head.

“That’s the one thing I can’t tell you.”

Even as she said so, he reached to deftly take her hands in his.

“I need you to trust me, Christine,” he whispered. 

Her eyelids fluttered, and she gave both of his hands a gentle squeeze.

“Of course I trust you.”

It was Christine who initiated the kiss, lifting herself up on her toes to press her mouth to his. Stephen felt every ounce of tension leave his body as he reciprocated, lifting one hand to cradle her face and thread his fingers into her auburn hair.

Someone cleared their throat.

All at once the two sprang away from each other, turning towards the figure who had entered the room.

The Wakandan princess was standing there, carrying a tablet in one hand and trying to hide a beaming smile with the other.

“There’s, uh...a meeting happening,” Shuri explained. “Down the hallway. No rush.”

With that she was quick to scamper out of the room, still grinning an altogether teenage grin.

~

Strange followed Shuri into the meeting room, finding the rest of their surviving team all together; albeit sans the recovering Parker. 

Despite the crowd, what caught his attention immediately was Wanda, leaning over a large hologram of a planet that was not Earth. She was closely flanked by Vision, Sam, and Bucky, and even the despondent Loki was hovering nearby. Across the projected image, several multi-colored waves of energy rippled over the planet’s surface.

“He used the Stones again,” Wanda said gravely. 

As Wanda spoke, Shuri moved rapidly to stand across from her, her fingers working across the screen of her tablet.

“We’d be going in shorthanded,” T’Challa pointed out. “If he still has the Stones…”

“So let’s get them from him,” Carol spoke up abruptly, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. “Use them to bring everyone back.”

“Just like that?” Quill asked incredulously. 

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, his expression deathly serious. “Just like that.”

“Even if there’s the smallest chance that we can undo this,” Wanda said, turning to face the rest of the group. “We owe it, to everyone who’s not in this room, to try.”

Her words hung heavy in the air for a moment, and everyone exchanged knowing glances.

“If we do this,” Quill said with uncertainty, though it was clear he was slowly warming up to the idea. “How do we know things will end any differently than they did before?”

“Because before, you didn’t have me,” Carol replied matter-of-factly.

Wanda smirked, though some of the others looked skeptical.

“Hey, new girl,” Sam told Carol. “Everybody in this room is about that superhero life. And if you don’t mind my asking, where the hell have you been all this time?”

“There are a lot of other planets in the universe,” Carol said, by way of explanation. “And unfortunately, they didn’t have you guys.”

It was a damn good answer, and Sam knew it. He looked over at Bucky, who cracked the slightest of grins and shrugged his shoulders. 

It was worth a shot.

“Hey, just as a reminder, she saved all of our lives,” Quill added, gesturing to the other Guardians as well as Strange. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m definitely inclined to trust her.”

Meanwhile, Loki had been staring pointedly at Carol for an uncomfortable amount of time -- since she had first spoken. Now, he moved straight towards her until he was standing right in front of her, making direct eye contact. Though he loomed two heads taller than her, she met his gaze with equal intensity.

“Loki,” Wanda said, in a warning tone. “Don’t.”

He paid her no mind. Instead, he held Carol’s gaze for a moment longer, making everyone else in the room tense up. Loki was clearly the wild card of the team -- he was the one no one had expected to be there, and he had isolated himself since the Snap. No one could predict what he was going to do, not even Wanda.

Though a moment ago he had been questioning Carol’s credentials, Sam was ready to put himself between her and the trickster if he had to.

But instead, Loki grinned wickedly down at her.

“I like your spark, Danvers,” he told her. 

He raised his arm, his hand outstretched, and Quill jumped to the side as Stormbreaker flew across the room and into Loki’s hand. Drax and Mantis had to smother their laughter at his expense.

“Jesus!” Quill swore, clearly startled. “Was that really necessary?”

Glancing over at Quill, Loki’s smile only widened, and when he looked back over at Carol, she was grinning back at him.

The relief in the room was palpable. The team was unified, and that gave them the biggest advantage.

“Shuri, can you track a location on Thanos?” Bucky asked, and there was an implicit sense of trust in his voice. He had been at the bottom of a deep, dark pit while he had been brainwashed, and he had her to thank for pulling him out of it.

“Working on it,” Shuri replied, not without a fondness of her own. “This planet is far from our own solar system; so much so that I keep losing the coordinates.”

Gamora had been noticeably silent throughout the meeting. Her gaze kept flickering back to the hologram in the centre of the room, and now she finally looked over towards Shuri and the flurry of activity on her tablet as she desperately tried to lock into a signal.

“I know where he is,” she spoke up finally.

Shuri stopped in her tracks and looked over at her, as did the rest of the team. Even Quill looked at her with both shock and concern.

“When we were children, he used to tell us of what it would be like, once he carried out his grand design,” Gamora continued, her eyes trained on her own folded arms across her chest. “He said we would go to a distant planet, and live out the rest of our days there in peaceful harmony.” 

As she spoke, her voice began to twist with bitterness.

“A paradise.”

She finally found the strength to lift her eyes, looking at each of her newfound comrades in turn.

“He called it the Garden.”

She met Shuri’s gaze last of all, and slowly moved to stand beside her. Without touching her or the tablet herself, Gamora lifted a hand and indicated each place on the tablet screen for Shuri to touch. Shuri followed her guide precisely, and within moments, an image that matched that of the hologram was pulled into focus on the screen.

Shuri couldn’t help but smile, almost laughing in disbelief.

“We’ve got him,” she breathed. She looked up at the older woman with a thankful smile; one that she was happy to return. T’Challa, too, was looking at Gamora with gratitude.

Sam looked at the newly assembled team, meeting the eyes of those who would help him lead them -- Wanda, Bucky, Loki, and Carol.

“Let’s go kill this son of a bitch.”

~

“What is that thing doing here?”

Carol looked over towards the other side of the hangar, and her gaze flickered down towards the floor. 

Goose had somehow wandered into the hangar, and was currently circling around the feet of Drax, who was backing away from the small animal as quickly as he could manage.

She couldn’t help but smirk.

“Come on, Drax, it’s just a cat,” Quill told him, stooping onto one knee to get closer to Goose. “Hey, buddy…”

“Peter,” Gamora said, her back against the wall. “Don’t touch it.”

Quill stared at her incredulously.

“Seriously? You, too?”

“That’s a Flerken,” she told him.

Quill’s confusion only deepened.

“What the heck is a Flerken?!” he exclaimed. He spread his hands questioningly, and Goose began to sniff tentatively at his fingers.

“A vicious alien creature that consumes all in its way,” Drax elaborated from where he was cowering in a corner. “None have ever faced one and lived to tell the tale.”

“Is that so?” Carol inquired with a crooked grin. As she stepped forward, Goose’s attention was diverted from Quill’s hand back to her, and she was quick to scamper over and rub herself against Carol’s legs with affection.

Drax and Gamora stared in collective astonishment as Carol bent at the waist and scooped Goose up into her arms.

“So...that’s your cat?” Quill wondered aloud as he got back to his feet.

Carol shrugged.

“More like we have an understanding,” she replied. “Goose here just kind of...does what she wants, and occasionally it works out in my favor.”

“...Goose?” Quill echoed in disbelief.

“A mighty name for a mighty beast,” Drax whispered in awe.

Carol only continued to smirk at them. Goose audibly purred as Carol stroked under her chin with two fingers.

“And...this is the cat that took Fury’s eye out?” Quill continued.

“The very same,” Carol affirmed. “To be fair, he was getting in her space. You gotta wait for her to come to you.”

Almost to illustrate her point, Goose seemed to have become suddenly fascinated by something too small for any of them to see, and she hopped out of Carol’s grasp to trot out of the hangar and back towards the main area of the building.

“It’s almost a shame,” Gamora admitted. “An almost-tame Flerken could make for a formidable weapon.”

Carol met her gaze, and the two women shared a smile.

“Don’t worry,” Carol said. “I’ve got all the weapons I need without her.”

“A kitty!!”

When all four of them looked over towards the doorway, they saw Mantis on her knees in front of Goose, who happily allowed her to stroke her orange fur.

~

Peter Parker opened his eyes.

Blinking blearily, he took in his surroundings as much as he could. He was lying in a cot, in a sterile medical ward, and he wasn’t in any pain.

It took a few moments for him to remember how he had come to be there -- the ship, the people he had been with, the measures he had taken...and even before then, watching Tony Stark turn to dust before his eyes and beneath his hands.

He had to know. He had to know if they had made it.

He tried to sit up, too quickly, and immediately sank back down again with a groan as his head went fuzzy.

“Careful,” someone said. “It’ll take a little while for you to regain your strength.”

Peter blinked again upon realizing there was someone else in the room. The woman’s voice was gentle, reassuring...and it reminded him of Aunt May.

After a moment, he was able to focus on her where she was sitting beside his cot. She was younger than May, but still old enough to be one of his teachers, and incredibly pretty.

“You’re Peter, right?” she continued. “My name is Christine. I’m, uh...a friend of Dr. Strange. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Peter managed to say, though it came out sounding rough and crackly. 

The hunger was still there, but it was no longer debilitating -- easier for him to ignore. 

“Where are the others?” he asked.

Aside from Tony, he had no idea who else was gone, and who was still there to fight.

Christine hesitated, choosing her words with care.

“They’re heading out on the next mission,” she told him. “Searching for --”

“For Thanos, right?” Peter cut her off. 

Christine nodded.

Peter sighed softly. He wanted to be out there with them; to fight to avenge Tony Stark -- maybe even bring him back, if such a thing was even possible. 

“Is...is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“The best thing you can do for right now, is to stay right here and get better,” Christine replied. 

He knew that she was right, but it didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.

“Who…” he began, but had to pause for a moment and swallow against the lump in his throat. “...Who’s left?”

It took Christine a moment to realize what he was asking her, but her expression gave nothing away.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” she advised him, getting to her feet. “Sit tight, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Peter laid back silently, watching her as she left the room.

He waited until she had disappeared from sight down the hallway, before he rolled over onto his side and reached for the wristband that his Spider-Man suit had minimized itself into, grabbing it from the small table beside his cot.

“Hey, Karen? Are you there?” he whispered into it.

After a moment, the device blinked to life.

“Hello, Peter,” the AI said. “What can I help you with?”

“You, uh...have access to the main system here, right?” Peter asked, keeping his voice as low as possible.

“That’s correct,” Karen responded. 

“Okay,” Peter murmured. “I need you to pull up the files on who survived the Snap...and who didn’t.”

“Are you sure you want to access these files?”

Peter actually hesitated for the briefest moment. He knew that whatever was in those files, he wasn’t going to like it. But he needed answers.

“Yes.”

“Accessing,” Karen said. “One moment.”

Peter held his breath, for the thirty seconds it took for Karen to get into the system. It came out in a quiet huff as the first projection burst out of the wristband’s face.

The files were arranged in sequence, displaying one at a time; with a photograph of each notable person with their name and status displayed underneath it.

The very first file Peter saw: ‘STEVEN GRANT ROGERS - DECEASED’

“Oh, Cap, no…” he whispered.

He lifted a trembling hand and started to flick through the files, one by one.

‘NATALIA ALIANOVNA ROMANOVA - DECEASED’

‘ROBERT BRUCE BANNER - DECEASED’

‘JAMES RUPERT RHODES - DECEASED’

‘CLINTON FRANCIS BARTON - DECEASED’

Peter swallowed hard. He couldn’t keep doing this.

He poked at the task bar at the top of the projected screen, choosing to filter through only the files on those who were still alive.

It was reassuring, in that moment, to see the faces of the people who would be his new teammates.

Samuel Thomas Wilson.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Wanda Marya Maximoff.

The Vision.

King T’Challa Udaku.

Princess Shuri Udaku.

Loki Laufeyson.

Peter had to do a double take at that last one. Loki was on their side now? There had to be a story behind that, and he would be eager to find out what it was.

But there was still something else he needed answered.

His gaze flickered up towards the top of the screen again, and saw the option to search the files manually.

Taking a deep breath, he selected the search option and began to type with the projected keypad.

“Happy Hogan”

The file appeared on the screen.

‘HAROLD JOSEPH HOGAN - DECEASED’

Peter’s heart sank, but he went right back to the search bar.

“Pepper Potts”

‘VIRGINIA GWENDOLYN POTTS - DECEASED’

“Ned Leeds”

‘EDWARD MICHAEL LEEDS - DECEASED’

Peter’s hands were shaking more than ever. His breathing was shaky.

But he had to know.

“Michelle Jones”

‘MICHELLE MELINDA JONES - DECEASED’

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, threatening to choke him.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

It was a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. He would wake up at any second.

I never got to tell her…

Peter blinked rapidly against the tears welling up in his eyes. 

There was still one more name he had to search for.

It took all of his strength to touch the keypad.

“May Parker”

The result lit up the screen.

‘MAY IRENE PARKER - DECEASED’

For a moment, Peter could only stare at the hologram, his heart heavy as a stone in his chest.  
She was gone; and with her, his last shred of hope.

“...Karen?” he breathed. “I...I think I’ve seen enough.”

“I understand,” said the AI. “Powering down.”

The hologram flickered and then disappeared, as the device went back to sleep.

Numb, Peter reached over and placed the wristband back on the bedside table, before curling in on himself completely.

They were gone. They were all gone.

~

Christine was in the hallway, on her way to fetch something to tide Peter over, when she rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into Stephen Strange.

“Oh!” she cried out as she came to a halt, startled. 

“I apologize, Christine, I didn’t mean to scare you --”

“Stephen, what are you still doing here?” Christine asked in disbelief. “I thought you were going up with the rest of them.”

“I was,” Stephen admitted. “But...I didn’t really see the point.”

After a moment, she realized what he meant.

“You already know what will happen,” she surmised, and Stephen nodded.

“They won’t need me there,” he replied. “Besides, there’s...something else I need to do.”

In saying so, his hand moved to fiddle with the watch he wore on his opposite wrist -- the watch Christine had given him, so long ago.

“Stephen…” Christine began, but she trailed off, as Stephen carefully opened the face of the watch and took a small object out of it.

All at once, she realized what he was holding, and her breath caught in her throat.

“I love you, Christine,” Stephen told her. “I always have. I only survived out in those mountains because of you. And after all of this, I know...that I could never imagine my life without you in it.”

Christine watched, breathlessly, as Stephen slowly lowered himself onto one knee.

“Doctor Palmer,” he said, his hand trembling as he offered the glistening diamond ring between his fingers to her. “Will you do me the immense honor of marrying me?”

Her shock quickly melted away, as tears of joy sprang to her eyes.

“Yes,” she answered. “Yes, of course I will!”

She didn’t wait for him to stand up before she threw herself into his arms. He caught her with one arm, still holding the ring aloft as they both tumbled to the floor in a barrage of laughter.

“Careful,” he said, chuckling. “I wouldn’t want to drop your ring.”

Beaming, Christine sat up, cupping his wrist with her right hand as she helped him guide the ring onto her finger.

“We’ll have to hyphenate our names, right?” she asked him, half-teasing. “Dr. and Dr. Strange-Palmer?”

Stephen smiled warmly at her.

“I’m thinking Palmer-Strange.”

~

“Okay, show of hands -- who here hasn’t been to space before?” Quill asked, leaning to look over his shoulder at the rest of the team from the pilot’s seat.

Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, Shuri, and T’Challa all raised their hands, as Loki and Carol watched them with bemused smiles.

“Alright,” Quill said as he turned back around. “Only rule is, nobody throws up on this ship.”

Rocket’s ship, he didn’t say.

“We’re approaching the jump point,” Gamora announced. “In three...two…”

The rest of the team all braced themselves.

“...One!”

The ship went into what someone from Earth could only describe as warp speed, pinning everyone into their seats.

Sam let his eyes widen as he watched the galaxy blur all around him as they passed through it.

As quickly as it began, the jump ended, and the ship was once again still as they reached their destination: hovering above the planet that Gamora -- and Thanos -- could only describe as ‘the Garden.’

Given her abilities, Carol was first to exit the ship. 

“I’ll head down for recon,” she told the others, before taking off towards the planet in a blur of blue, red, and gold.

Sam watched her slowly disappear in the distance, looking as pensive as he’d ever been. 

For a long moment, everyone was silent.

“Sam,” Wanda spoke up, garnering his attention. “This is going to work.”

Under other circumstances, her optimism would have made Sam smile; but the weight of the situation they were in sat heavy on Sam’s shoulders.

“I know it will,” he responded as he met her eyes. “Because I don’t know what I’m gonna do if it doesn’t.”

For the first time, Wanda noticed that he was turning something over and over in his hand. She reached out to touch his arm, stopping its motion, and she saw what he was holding: Steve’s compass, with the photograph of Peggy Carter inside.

The two shared another look, this time one of understanding.

Steve meant something to each of them. Behind Sam, Wanda could see Bucky’s silhouette, turned away from them. Embroiled in a similar line of thought, perhaps one that neither she nor Sam would ever fully understand.

Now, they were doing what he would have done for them.

Wanda was the first to spot the glint of Carol’s form rising back up from the planet, and all three of them broke out of their thoughts to move towards her, along with the rest of the team.

“There’s nothing down there,” Carol told them, her face etched with confusion. “No satellites, no ships, no armies...no ground defenses of any kind. It’s just him.”

The others all shared in her disbelief, but still Gamora’s mouth settled with determination.

“And that’s enough,” she whispered.

~

The surface of the planet seemed to altogether match Gamora’s description. It was peaceful, green, idyllic...and almost entirely unpopulated.

Almost.

In the middle of it all stood a simple little cottage, though Thanos’ recognizable armor was hung like a scarecrow at the edge of the property.

The inside of the cottage was sparse at well; little more than a kitchen with a burning fire to cook on, and a spot to sleep. 

Admittedly, Carol hardly noticed this as she burst straight through the wall of the cottage, firing a photon blast directly at Thanos and knocking him to the ground.

He barely had time to recover before she was upon him again, putting him into a tight headlock with her arms, and using one foot to press down on his gauntlet arm.

The side wall of the cottage was blown in by blast after blast of sonic energy from Shuri’s Vibranium gauntlets. She and her brother both jumped through the hole left behind, leaping in to assist Carol in holding down Thanos by the gauntlet arm.

Vision was next, using the enhanced body Shuri had built him to fire his own blast of pure energy through the cottage’s thin walls, as he once would have done with the Mind Stone. Once inside, he grabbed onto Thanos’ other arm with all his strength to better hold him in place, immobilizing him completely.

Finally, Loki, now in full armor again, flew into the only remaining wall left intact, using his magic to phase through it. Stormbreaker was raised high above his head, and with a battle cry he brought it down hard -- severing Thanos’ gauntlet arm. 

It fell to the floor with a loud clang, and Thanos howled in pain. 

The structure of the cottage was now barely standing as Sam approached, flanked by Wanda and Bucky. They approached the scene slowly, savoring it as Thanos continued to scream in pure agony.

The Guardians were close behind them, though they approached with significantly more haste. Gamora moved to where the gauntlet lay on the floor, using both hands to turn it over; palm side down.

Her eyes widened.

The gauntlet was completely dilapidated -- rust and damage covered its surface, and the stones were nowhere to be seen.

“No…” she breathed, in sheer horror.

She looked up at Sam and Wanda with desperation as they moved to stand at her side.

“What?” Quill asked. “What is it?”

“The Stones…” Wanda answered. “They’re gone.”

Sam turned on his heel and stepped towards Thanos, where the rest of the team still held him tightly.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

At first, Thanos didn’t respond, but Carol’s grip tightened around his neck.

“Answer the question,” she hissed at him.

Loki moved to stand beside Sam, Stormbreaker still in his hand. His eyes were wide with suspicion -- and fear.

“The universe...required correction,” Thanos answered finally. “After that...the Stones served no purpose...beyond temptation.”

“You murdered trillions!!” T’Challa burst out. 

Enraged, he swung his foot directly into Thanos’ chest, making the others release their hold on him as he tumbled to the floor.

“You should be grateful,” Thanos retorted, and T’Challa’s fist came down onto his face. 

Wanda moved forward, stopping T’Challa before he could punch him a second time.

“...Where are the Stones?” she asked him again. Her voice was even and calm, though her dread was evident in her expression.

Her eyes lit up a brilliant red, as she reached into the Titan’s mind.

Thanos’ eyes, too, turned red, as she took hold of him with her magic.

“Gone,” he answered, under her spell. “Reduced to atoms.”

“You lie,” T’Challa growled. “You used them again, two days ago.”

“I used the Stones,” Thanos replied. “To destroy the Stones.”

Every eye in the room was fixed on Thanos now.

“It nearly killed me…” he continued. “But the work is done. And it always will be.”

Bucky looked at Wanda, his face a silent question -- desperate for an answer that she couldn’t give him.

“He’s telling the truth,” Wanda whispered, a single tear falling down her face.

Slowly, even still in the hold of Wanda’s spell, Thanos sat up, little by little.

“I...am...inevitable.”

His words hung in the air around them, and for a moment no one could speak.

Wanda withdrew her hold on Thanos and turned away from him. Vision was at her side in an instant, enveloping her in his arms.

Loki’s gaze was fixed on the floor, unblinking. His hands shook.

“We...we have to tear this place apart,” Quill spoke up. “He could have hidden them somewhere!”

“You heard what Wanda said,” Gamora told him. There was no anger in her voice, only pure resignation. “Thanos is many things, Peter...but he’s never been a liar.”

As she spoke, she slowly got to her feet, and for the first time since they had entered the hut, Gamora locked eyes with the man who had called himself her father.

“Thank you...my beloved daughter,” Thanos murmured. “You were always the best of them…”

Out of the blue, Loki lifted Stormbreaker, and with an animalistic roar he swung it.

Thanos’ head rolled to the floor.

There was a moment of shocked silence. Gamora slowly lifted her hand, wiping away some of Thanos’ dark purple blood that had flown onto her cheek. She never tore her eyes away from his headless corpse.

Vision was the first to speak, while the others could only gape as they took in what had just happened.

“...What did you do?” he asked Loki softly.

Loki’s entire body was trembling. He drew a shaky breath as he slowly turned toward Vision, gradually lowering Stormbreaker as he did so.

“I went for the head.”

His face had settled into a look of hard determination and bitterness -- but his voice told a different story. He sounded as if he had only just realized what he had done.

The silence around him only continued. It was truly sinking in for them now, each and every one of them.

They had lost.

Their one shred of hope, gone.

Now there was nothing left for them to do...but try to move on.

Sam turned and looked at Bucky. Neither of them wanted to believe it. They were both so used to fighting tooth and nail against every obstacle in their path. And yet, there was no amount of fighting that would change this.

Bucky was the first to step forward, and the two men wrapped each other in a tight hug. There was nothing else they could do.

Slowly, Gamora sank onto her knees beside Thanos’ severed head. It had fallen face-up, and despite herself, she reached out with one hand to close his eyes.

Even so, she still spat onto his face as she stood up again.

Quill stood beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and she sank into his embrace as she finally allowed herself to break down.

Behind them, Drax, Groot, and Mantis all stood hand-in-hand. Groot hung his head. Mantis laid her forehead against Drax’s arm. Drax had turned his gaze skyward.

T’Challa turned to face his sister, and as their eyes met Shuri rushed over to him. He caught her in his arms and held her close.

Loki turned and stalked out of the cottage, still carrying Stormbreaker. Wanda watched him as he went, catching something in his mind and latching onto it.

“Loki, wait,” she called after him.

“Wanda…” Vision began, starting to reach for her again. She shrugged away his hand, albeit without any animosity.

“Viz, please, I have to do this,” she told him simply, before moving to follow Loki outside. Vision made no move to stop her again.

As she walked, Wanda locked eyes with Carol for the briefest moment. Carol’s expression was unreadable, but there was understanding in her eyes.

Wanda managed to give her the smallest smile of reassurance, before she pulled her gaze away and stepped out of the cottage.

“Loki!” she called again, and Loki actually stopped, turning around to face her.

He was silent and unmoving, allowing her to make her way over to him.

“Don’t do this,” Wanda pleaded softly. 

“I have to,” Loki responded simply.

He started to turn away from her again, but she reached out and grabbed hold of his arm with both hands, pulling him back towards her.

“Please,” she whispered insistently. “We need you here.”

Loki met her eyes again, and they shared a moment of intense eye contact.

For the briefest second, Loki contemplated listening to her.

But instead, he closed his eyes and sighed softly, before pulling his arm free of her grasp.

As his arm passed through her fingers, a band of braided leather was left in her palm. Even from a brief glance, Wanda could see that there were Nordic runes etched into the leather.

“Keep that, Wanda,” Loki told her. “In case we meet again.”

As her fingers closed around the bracelet, Wanda watched him walk away from her. He spun Stormbreaker in his hand and thrust it up towards the sky, and in a flash of light he was gone.


	10. Interlude

FIVE

 

 

 

 

 

YEARS

 

 

 

 

 

 

LATER


	11. XI. HOPE

_Flash._

Hope Van Dyne crashed through the van’s doors out onto the pavement. Her vision whirled. Scott’s Chevy faded in and out of focus— was it always so grimy? Hope pushed herself up onto her feet, reaching towards it, and immediately crashed back down onto the cold, hard concrete. 

“Damn it,” she gasped through her teeth.

Hope pulled off her helmet and dumped it into the pile of boxes beside her. A pair of rats squeaked and scurried out of the broken bean bag jutting out from the bottom. 

_Get your bearings. Assess the situation. Evaluate the facts._

Four gated walls surrounded her. A holding cell in some sort of prison? No, not a prison. A storage facility and, given the rats, a pretty low-budget one. But not low-budget enough to account for the sheer amount of dust and cobwebs covering Scott’s van.

Hope looped her fingers through the chain-link wall.

“Mom?” she pulled herself up, slowly this time around.

Her knees buckled.

“Dad, are you there?”

_Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall—_

“...Scott?” Hope whispered, “Scott, if this is you trying to be funny, I’m not laughing.”

She pushed herself forward, crashing into the van instead of out of it. Hope slowly, carefully, pulled herself around to the front, grabbing whatever she could lay her hands on to keep herself upright.

It was funny.

Even though it’d only been five hours since she’d stepped foot on solid ground that _stayed_ solid, it was feeling more and more like _five years_ with each passing moment.

“Who knows?” Hope muttered underneath her breath as she made eye-to-lens contact with the video camera pointed straight at her, “Maybe it has.”

* * *

It was.

* * *

Hope walked.

Left foot. Right foot. One in front of the other.

She dragged along one of those little red Radio Flyer Wagons behind her, the ones that kids carted around their toys or books or even their friends in on wild adventures; but, instead of toys or books or friends, she dragged along a burdened load of her and Scott’s things. 

Her suit, discarded and replaced with a pair of Scott’s sweats that he’d left in the van. A couple pieces of key tech so that another rat wouldn’t carelessly turn on the Quantum Tunnel again on accident. A yellowed drawing of Frankenstein being attacked by a bat that Cassie had drawn in blue crayon that she’d stuffed in the glove box for safe-keeping.

Five years.

Hope had known something was wrong. She’d known it from the moment she’d cried out to no answer. But she hadn’t imagined— she _couldn’t_ have imagined _this._

Barren streets. Garbage clogging the gutters. Flyers of the Missing plastered across every pole, haunting faces aged and faded from years of rainfall and decay. There was no laughter in the air. No birds singing. No horns honking because of five o’clock traffic. It was just… quiet.

A boy bumped into her.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, grabbing the bouquet of hand-picked daisies wrapped in newspaper off the ground, “‘scuse me.”

Hope followed him with her gaze. He couldn’t have been more than nine— ten years old. He would’ve been just starting school when the Snap occurred. What happened to his parents? Why weren’t they with him?

Something told her that she already knew the answer.

Hope followed him.

She followed him into the park, followed him until she found where he’d been heading… and to who the flowers had been intended for.

Hope had seen memorials like these before. Pillars and walls erected with the names of the fallen… of those who had given their lives, and had their lives taken away. How many cities had memorials like these now? Since when had senseless tragedy become the norm?

She brushed her hand over the names etched into stone.

_Hope Van Dyne._

_Janet Van Dyne._

She moved deeper into the memorial, brushing past pillar after pillar.

_Hank Pym._

_Cassandra Lang._

_Scott Lang._

Hope’s knees wobbled. Even though the ground remained firmly below her, her world had just been turned upside down.

She walked.

Because that was all that she could do.

She walked and she walked.

And when she thought she could go no further, she walked some more.

How could everything have gone so wrong in just five hours? It had only been… five hours… It had only… been…

Hope’s eyes burned. 

Everything had finally been going her way. She’d been reunited with her Mother. She’d grown into her title as The Wasp. She’d forgiven Scott and welcomed him back into her arms. Hope had finally had her family back together, complete with a few new members added along the way, only to have lost them all within a flash.

A snap.

She slammed face-first into a screen door.

Scott’s house.

What had brought her here? It wasn’t like there was anyone left to welcome her or to take her in. But where else was she to go?

Hope found herself ringing the doorbell. Over and over and over—

“Just a minute! I’ll be right right out.”

Hope stiffened. That voice… it sounded familiar.

The door opened.

And she stared right into the eyes of a Ghost.

“My God,” Ava Starr whispered, “You’re alive.”

* * *

“And that’s why you two came here?” Wanda repeated, rendered breathless from the story.

It was impossible what they suggested. The Avengers had long since resigned themselves to their failures. It had been only after these five long, miserable years of heartbreak and growing apart that they’d only just begun to move on. That _she_ had only just begun to move on.

With the help of SHIELD Correspondent Nakia, Captain Danvers, Guardian of the Galaxy Gamora and her Terran Liaison Peter Quill, she had been able to keep tabs on the impact of the Snap across the Universe and on those whom were affected by it. Everything was far from perfect, but they were healing. 

But now, Hope had come and ripped off the scab.

Wanda seated herself behind her desk and ran her hands through her hair.

“And that’s why we came here,” Hope confirmed, sitting down on the other side as Ava Starr looked on from the far corner, “I’ve had some time to… think. Everything that happened… Everyone that we’ve lost, we can bring them back, Miss Maximoff. We can fix it. We can fix everything.”

“How?”

“By stopping it from ever happening.”

“You’ve got to admit though,” Wanda grimaced, “Time travel sounds a little far-fetched.”

“Miss Maximoff, I’m an expert mechanical engineer, a physicist and entomologist,” Hope leaned forward, placing her hands firmly against the desk, “I’m the former chairwoman of Pym Technologies and the only person left in the world that can manufacture and understand Pym Particles. I trained underneath the leading expert of the Quantum Realm and _I’ve been there._ ”

“So you’ve said.”

Wanda leaned back in her chair, thinking it over.

“If this works…”

“It’ll work,” Hope said firmly.

“ _If_ this works…,“ Wanda continued, “We’re gonna need some help.”

“Have any suggestions?”

“A few.”

* * *

“Y’know, back when I’d first met Cap, I was running a support group right here in this building for soldiers readjusting to civilian life,” Sam leaned back in his chair, “Sometimes I wonder… was it all just leading up to this? Preparation for living with all this… guilt?”

He looked down at his hands, at the compass cradled in his palms.

“For moving forward with our lives even though we’ve been… changed?”

The Snap Support Group remained silent as he talked, offering their sympathy and lending their ears because that’s all that they could do. That’s what they were all there for. To listen and to be listened to. To be there for each other, a shoulder to lean on, as they worked through their problems.

“I used to be Air Force. Pararescue. My main man Riley got shot down in front of me,” a bitter smile crossed his lips, “Hung up my wings after the funeral. Didn’t get to fly again after that— Well, until Cap found me.”

Sam’s hands clenched.

“But he’s gone now too.”

“Were you there when it happened?” an older woman that he’d never seen before whispered beside him, pulling her chair across the tile so that she could touch his arm, “When Thanos— When he—”

Her lower lip trembled.

“You’re new here,” Sam suddenly straightened, recomposing himself, “Wendy, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“What brought you here today, Wendy?”

“I—I don’t know,” she retracted her hands back into her lap, “After I lost my wife… our boys… I haven’t been able to… do anything really. Didn’t leave my bed for months. Didn’t leave the house for years.”

Wendy fidgeted with her wedding band, spinning it around her finger.

“Fought so hard just to have the chance to live the rest of my life with her and now she’s— she’s—”

This time, it was Sam’s turn to touch her arm.

“What was her name?”

“Lorelai.”

“And your kids?”

Wendy squeezed her eyes shut.

“Noah and Caleb,” she choked, “It was their birthday last week… They would’ve been eight. I got ‘em a cake over on 10th street. Saw your flyer in the window and I thought that… maybe… ”

“You did the hardest part, Wendy,” Sam squeezed her arm and leaned back in his seat, “You took the jump and didn’t know where you were gonna come down.”

He cast his gaze across the entire group now. 

At Bucky sitting over in the corner taking the minutes. At Matt, the blind lawyer down from Hell’s Kitchen. At Jeffrey, who owned a deli, and his dog Martha. At Alice who carried around her twin sister’s picture everywhere and never spoke. At David from the Synagogue down the street. At his neighbors Yusuf and his daughter Kamala. Rio, one of their regular attendees, wasn’t there today but she’d picked up the morning shift at the hospital and was otherwise preoccupied.

“And that’s it. It’s those little baby steps that we gotta take to become whole again. To find purpose,” Sam leaned forward, “The world is in our hands now. It’s up to us, guys. And we gotta do something with it. Otherwise…”

A figure stepped through from the shadows.

“Otherwise Thanos should’ve killed us all,” Wanda said, meeting Sam’s eye, “We need to talk.”

* * *

SHIELD Co-Director and Wakandan Emissary to the World Security Council Nakia Mpenzi personally escorted Hope Van Dyne to their destination.

Hope didn’t normally consider herself a woman intimidated by persons in power. She’d worked with too many narcissists and politicians and, ugh, _lawyers_ in her lifetime to cast more than a sparing thought towards them. But as she traveled in the passenger seat beside the Emissary, she’d found herself at a sudden loss for words. 

How’s that Global Warming? Oh, it’s slowed down to a standstill? Makes sense. At least some good has come out of half the population being wiped out, yeah?

Hope slunk down further into her seat and groaned.

“So…” the Emissary broke the nervous tension slowly choking out the air, “Been back for a couple of days now, hmm?”

“Four days, actually,” she mumbled, “To be exact.”

Hope looked out the window, watching Queens pass her by.

“Three of those days were just driving over here.”

“Lost a lot of pilots during the Snap,” the Emissary explained, “Try to imagine what it’s like booking a flight… _internationally._ ”

“Must be rough.”

“You have no idea,” Nakia laughed, “Luckily, I have my own jet.”

Hope cracked a grin. 

They pulled up to an abandoned bar and parked; but, Nakia kept the engine running.

“He’s in there,” she nodded her head towards the entrance, “Shuri put a tracker on his suit. Hasn’t moved for the past ten minutes.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Hope went to get out of the car, but Nakia put her hand over hers, “If you see him without the mask, whatever you do… don’t mention the goatee.”

“...Goatee,” Hope repeated and exited the vehicle, facing down the bar, “Right… Got it. Don’t mention the goatee. Don’t mention the goatee.”

She entered the building.

“Don’t mention the—”

“I’m telling ya, Norman! Green just isn’t your color!”

The Amazing Spider-Man lounged in one of the booths, legs propped up on the broken table. One arm was hooked around the shoulders of a costumed villain, struggling desperately to free himself from his webbed-up cocoon, whilst the other was occupied with holding a milkshake. Peter brought the straw to his lips, his mask pulled up over his nose and showing off probably the _worst_ impression of a Tony Stark-esque goatee that Hope had ever seen.

And she had seen _Scott_ try to grow one.

“And pumpkins? Really?” Peter continued, setting the milkshake on the table in favor of grabbing one of the Jack-o-Lantern bombs hooked around the Green Goblin’s belt, “I never really pinned you for going all out on the Halloween aesthetic but, then again, I never really planned to go swinging through Queens dressed as a giant spider.”

Peter tossed the pumpkin bomb into the air.

“Funny how that happens— oh shit.”

And dropped it.

“Sorry, Norman!” Peter tossed the Green Goblin over to the opposite end of the bar and bolted from his seat as soon as the bomb started beeping, “As the kids say, _yeet!_ ”

Hope, watching this unfold with a sense of _‘Is this really one of your best guys, Miss Maximoff, or are you pulling my leg?,_ pulled out a Pym Particle Disk and threw it onto the bomb. It didn’t stop the explosion, just miniaturized it so that it’d be contained inside the booth.

The milkshake splattered across the walls. 

“Noooo,” Peter looked Hope in the eye, sticking out his lower lip, “How else am I supposed to bring boys to the yard?”

“Spider-Man,” she rolled back her shoulders, “I need to bring you in. The Avengers—”

“That’s Mister Spider-Man, thank you.”

“...What?”

“Okay, okay, you got me. It’s Mrs. Spider-Man,” he looked back towards the Green Goblin, knocked unconscious from the unexpected yeet, “Sorry, Norman. I’m off the market. You were too old for me anyways.”

Hope pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Peter—”

“—Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers, haha. I know,” Peter rushed to her side in a flash and slung his arm around her shoulders, “Ex-nay on the name-ay. I know you guys don’t exactly have secret identities and all, but I like to keep my name private.”

Hope cast her gaze onto the Green Goblin.

“Even when we’re the only two conscious people in the room?”

“Hey, Norman is the Founder of OsCorp. He might dress up like the Jolly Green Giant, but he’s not dumb—”

“No, I mean he’s literally unconscious, Peter.”

“Oh.”

Peter removed his arm from around her shoulders and rubbed the back of his head.

“So, what was that you were saying about the Avengers?” he laughed awkwardly, “And, more importantly…”

He pulled off his mask, revealing not a teenager but a grown man.

“Do we have time to grab a milkshake on the way out?”

* * *

_Now I gotta cut loose /_

_Footloose, kick off your Sunday shoes_

Peter Quill pulled himself out from underneath his motorcycle and turned up the radio.

_Please, Louise, pull me off of my knees /_

_Jack, get back, come on before we crack_

He wiped the sweat from his brow, smearing oil and dirt across his face. He’d gotten quite good at fixing Terran vehicles during the last five years spent down planet-side. Bikes, trucks, planes, boats… anything with an engine that he could lay his hands on, he’d managed to learn every gear, piston, and valve and how it worked.

He’d never let himself hang dead in the sky again.

_Lose your blues /_

_Everybody cut Footloose_

Quill walked over to his tool chest and threw his wrench into the open drawer, slamming it shut with his hip while he took a long, satisfied sip of his Orange Soda. He didn’t like it. It was too sugary and sweet in all the wrong ways; but, it’s what he’d had as a kid and now that the opportunity to indulge himself whenever he wanted presented itself… Well, it wasn’t like he was going to tell himself no, now was he?

Which was why his lunch this hot, summer afternoon consisted of Fruit Roll-Ups, Bagel Bites, and a half-eaten Strawberry Pop Tart.

Quill set down his soda on top of the tool chest and made to make his half-eaten Pop Tart into a full-eaten one—

And was swept up into the air.

“Howdy, Peter A!”

“ _Peter B,_ ” Quill shouted his name like a curse and pulled at the webbing at his shirt, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Sweeping you off your feet?”

Even though his mask was pulled on all the way over his face, somehow Quill knew that Peter was grinning. 

“Peter—”

“We’ve got a meeting at HQ,” Spider-Man web-slinged from building to building, sounding suddenly serious. Well, as serious as Peter Parker could be. “Invitation-only event, you know, and you’re my plus one.”

“Peter,” Quill groaned.

“Metro got shut down again. Norman decided to decorate the tunnels for Halloween a little early this year; and people complain about Christmas in July! Ha!”

“ _Peter._ ”

“So, I figured I’d pick you up myself, grab some fresh air—”

“ _Peter Benjamin Parker!_ ”

Peter nearly missed his next web-sling, and Quill felt his stomach fly all the way up to his throat.

“...Yes, Peter A?”

“You do know I have a car, right?”

The lenses on Spider-Man’s mask widened.

“...Oh. Oops.”

* * *

 

Peter Parker smoothed back his hair. 

There’d been a time when he’d used to think that bedhead was bad; then, he’d started wearing a mask.

Out of the two, he’d much prefer the bedhead.

Bedhead wouldn’t betray him unlike this stubborn little curl that kept sticking out, tickling his ear, and really getting on his last nerve—

“Alright, Peter B,” Quill raised a brow, having not even bothered to fix his wind-swept hair; but, he didn’t need to. He already looked cool. “What gives?”

Peter tucked the curl behind his ear. It sprung back out.

_Seventeenth time’s the charm…_

“What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” Quill rolled his eyes and gestured towards him, “I’m talking about the suit.”

“But… I put it away already?” Peter raised his wrist, confused, “The nanotech retracts into the bracelet when I push the spider-symbol on my chest. It used to only respond to touch, but I got knocked through too many walls when Rhino went on a rampage. So, Shuri—”

“Not _that_ suit,” Quill pinched the bridge of his nose, “You look like you’ve just rolled up in front of your date’s place on your way to high school prom. Is that— Are you wearing a cummerbund?”

“I think it makes me look dapper.”

Quill stepped in front of him, cutting him off.

“You know I can pick you up,” Peter placed his hands on his hips, “You do know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he leaned forward, huffing, “Stand still, kiddo.”

“I’m 21—”

“Yeah, and I’m 43. I’ve got seniority.”

“I don’t see a cane,” Peter mumbled.

“What?”

“You know, to wave at me. Next thing you know, you’ll be yelling at me to get off your lawn—”

“You’re the reason for my gray hairs,” Quill ruffled his hair, destroying all his hard work within a manner of seconds, “Now hold still.”

“Whatever you say, grandpa.”

“I swear to— _mmph_ , I’m cool. It’s cool,” Quill loosened Peter’s tie and threw it over his shoulder, “Look when you’re trying to impress the girl you like, you don’t need all this. Girls don’t want to see a costume. They want to see you. You’re a pretty, manly peacock. So, show off your feathers.”

“Is that your way of telling me to lose the jacket?” Peter raised a brow.

“I was talking about the cummerbund,” he teased, “But, the jacket can go too. Where did you even get that thing?”

“I wore it to Homecoming.”

Quill snorted.

“I’m not… I’m not even gonna say it,” he stepped back and wiped his eyes, laughing, “Now, roll up your sleeves and we’re good to go.”

“Are you sure about this, Peter A?” Peter rolled up his sleeves past his elbow, “She is a princess and I— I don’t want to give off the wrong impression.”

“We’re not putting on the cummerbund again,” Quill said, “Remember, Peter. You’re a pretty, manly peacock.”

“I’m a pretty, manly peacock.”

“Now,” he grinned and slapped his back, “Go get her.”

They entered the lab together and Peter’s heart flipped. Shuri had on her safety goggles, her braids swept up into a silk wrap. She was working on a new suit, one he had never seen before.

“I am a pretty, manly peacock,” he mumbled to himself, rolling back his shoulders, “I am a pretty, manly peacock. I am a pretty, manly peacock. I am a—”

“Finished!” Shuri set down the ghost-white helmet and pulled off her goggles, grinning, “Try it on now, and see how it fits.”

Peter pivoted on his heel and made for the door.

Quill caught him by the shoulder and spun him around.

“I don’t know how can I ever repay you,” a phantom responded, taking the helmet into her hand phasing in and out of corporealness, “You really didn’t have to…”

“Nonsense,” Shuri said, putting away her tools, “It was a welcome challenge. Those don’t come around too often.”

The phantom lady slipped on the helmet and her form glitched back into existence. Peter could feel the room shudder a breath of relief.

“It’s… bearable,” the phantom whispered and cast her gaze towards the door, looking almost straight through him and Quill, “Your boyfriend is here.”

“My…” Shuri furrowed her brows in confusion and followed her gaze, “Peter!”

His heart somersaulted and jumped straight out the window.

Shuri bolted towards him, eyes brimming with delight, and grabbed his wrist. She brought it up close to her face, close enough that Peter could count every breath she took, and inspected the nanotech bracelet where his suit had retracted into.

“H—Hi…”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Shuri beamed.

“You… are?”

“I’ve been working on this new idea and, now that you’re here, we can finally test it out!” she tugged him over and pushed into the chair where the phantom lady had been sitting nearly two seconds ago, “I just need access to the nanites to run this program and, in five minutes, your bracelet will have the power of invisibility.”

“That way, no one will be able to trace Spider-Man to me. There won’t be anything that connects us together. Shuri, you’re a genius,” he said in awe, “Can we extend that to when I’m in the suit too?”

“See, _Buibui_?” Shuri removed the bracelet and brought it to her work-table, “This is why we work well together.”

She put on her goggles, and got back to work.

Knowing better than to disturb her when busy, Peter turned his attention to the phantom lady standing next to him.

“Uhm… hello?” he grinned awkwardly and gave a little wave, “My name’s Man-Spider— I mean, Peter-Man— _crap_ , I mean—”

“What he means to say is he’s happy to make your acquaintance,” Quill interjected, coming to his literal rescue, “Hey, Shuri! We early?”

“The others will be here in a minute,” she waved behind her, completely engrossed in her work, “Help yourself to the fridge. I’ve got the sodas you like.”

“Alright!,” Quill beamed and made a bee-line to the backroom, “See ya, Peter B! Me and Orange Soda have a date…with _destiny._ ”

“Destiny, the bartender? Or Destiny, the waitress?”

Quill raised his middle finger, not even turning around to look at him.

Peter laughed and turned back around only to come face-to-helmet with the phantom lady. He flinched, hands gripping onto the edges of his seat.

“Woah, howdy! That’s uhm… That’s a little too close for comfort. Don’t mind, I’m just— I’m just gonna…” he slid his chair back across the floor, eliciting a loud and annoying _screech_ that sent pins and needles down his skin, “Uhm… right. Yeah.”

Peter coughed.

“Soooo, as I was saying: I’m Peter Parker… and you… are?”

The phantom tilted her head.

“Ava. Starr.”

“Starr,” he repeated, “Ava. Starr. Is that your name followed by superhero name? Or is it all one name? Or, geez, is it both? I know that the Doc goes by Dr. Strange which his both his alias and his actual, honest-to-God name. Trust me. I had him show me his birth certificate and medical degree.” 

Peter frowned and stroked his goatee.

“And, now that I think about it, what’s with the whole alliteration thing anyways with Supes? I mean, we’ve got Stephen Strange. Bucky Barnes. Bruce Banner. You’ve got me, Peter Parker. Is that like… a prerequirement no one tells you about?” he babbled, “Because honestly, if it is—”

“You talk too much,” Ava interrupted.

Peter paused, then shrugged.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He leaned back in his seat and watched Shuri work. 

“I’m not, you know,” he mumbled, “Her boyfriend, I mean.”

Ava tilted her head.

“I don’t think she even… sees me that way. Which is fine,” he waved his hands in front of him, “I value her too much as a friend to jeopardize what we have.”

Ava remained quiet for a moment.

“Are you sure that it’s friendship you have now?”

The doors to Shuri’s lab opened and in stepped Emissary Nakia, followed shortly by Hope, Sam and Bucky, and Wanda bringing up the rear. 

Wanda looked around the room, “Where’s Viz?”

As if on queue, he materialized from the floor with a scientist that Peter had only ever seen on the news.

“I’m… never doing that again,” Erik Selvig covered his mouth, looking green around the edges, “Is there a— Is there a bathroom where I could—”

Peter pointed to the back. 

Erik flashed him a look of gratitude and rushed through the doors. Retching could be heard shortly after, followed by a loud crash and a sailor-blush-inducing curse.

“Aw man,” Quill exited the backroom, orange soda staining his shirt, “What was his problem? And, more importantly, who the hell was that?”

“The astrophysicist I requested,” Shuri answered, setting down Peter’s bracelet momentarily and shoving her goggles over her forehead. She turned around and started counting heads, “So that makes… mechanical engineers, multidisciplinary physicists, surveyors of the quantum realm… alright! I think we have our Science Squad!”

Peter thrust his hand into the air.

“Yes, _Buibui_?”

“Am I on the Science Squad?”

“No.”

“Aww.”

“Just kidding. What would I do without my assistant?” Shuri punched his shoulder as she brushed past him, typing something into one of the many computers dotting the lab and pulling up a screen that quickly encompassed the room.

“I’ve been running simulations all morning,” Shuri pressed her thumb to her lips, talking more to herself than those who had been gathered to listen, “And I’ve come up with a trajectory that’s passed every test I’ve thrown at it. I just need a peer review, extra hands to design the suits and not to mention the machine—”

Wanda approached the simulation, touching the image projected across the room.

“So, it’s possible?”

“Of course,” Shuri snorted, “Nothing is impossible except impossibility. Which, is in itself, a paradox; but, that’s what makes it so much fun. So, how many suits are we making?”

“Good question,” Wanda pivoted on her feet, “Nakia?”

“The Guardians are approaching Earth as we speak. Captain Danvers has some loose ends to tie up on Planet Birkeel first, but will be heading over to us the second they’re resolved,” her Kimoyo buzzed and a pleased smile crossed her face, “T’Challa just landed. He’ll be here shortly.”

“What’s the status on La Llorona?” Wanda straightened. Her hands clenched into fists for a sparing moment, but quickly relaxed. “Dr. Strange? Has anyone heard _anything_ from Loki?”

“Nobody’s heard from him in five years,” said Sam, looking at her strangely, “You know that.”

“Well, actually,” Selvig emerged from the backroom, wiping his mouth with a paper towel, “That… might not be completely true.”

* * *

 

“If I may ask, Miss Starr,” Vision braced himself between the window and the outer rim of the truck bed after a precarious bump jostled them around, “Why your insistence on joining us to New Asgard?”

Ava watched the hills passing them by.

“It’s quiet out here,” her voice was soft, not gentle but heavy with ever-lasting weariness and fatigue, “And I couldn’t break my promise.”

“Your promise?"

“That I’d never sleep under another SHIELD roof ever again.”

“...oh.”

“Besides,” she looked at him directly now, “Hope and Shuri know where to find me if they should find my presence… necessary. Not like they’d need me anyways. Not like how I need them.”

Her thousand-yard stare pierced through him.

“Nothing more than a ghost… walking amongst the living, pretending to be one of them...”

Vision reached out to her.

“Miss Starr—”

“We’re here!” Erik called out from the driver’s seat, pulling up to the town’s limits and putting the truck in park, “Welcome to New Asgard.”

The Valkyrie and her husband Heimdall were already there, awaiting their arrival. It was truly impressive how much the pair had accomplished within such a short time-frame and in the wake of unprecedented devastation. They had survived Thanos’ attacks. They’d founded their own safe-haven, a place for the Asgardians that remained and for those seeking a place of peace and reinvention. They had carved their own little place in a world destroyed. 

“Brunnhilde,” Erik slammed the truck door shut and went to greet them, extending his hand, “It’s been awhile.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” she smiled and clasped his arm, “Your room is just how you left it. I’ve arranged for your guests in the house just opposite of yours.”

“Ah, thank you; but there is no need for that. This is not an extended visit, I’m afraid,” Erik frowned, “We need to see him.”

“He doesn’t take visitors, you know this,” Brunnhilde lowered her voice, “We fill out his requests. We send him his provisions. We leave them at his door, and take what has been emptied. None of us ever seen or interacted with him outside of his letters.”

“I know, but we need to see him,” he pushed, “I believe we’ve found the answer.”

“The answer?”

“On how to reverse it,” Erik glanced around, “The Snap.”

Brunnhilde froze.

“Heimdall?”

He looked to her.

“Take them to Loki.”

Heimdall closed his eyes briefly and bowed his head. He stepped to the side and gestured the three of them forward, “If you will follow me…”

“It’ll only be Dr. Selvig and I that will be accompanying you on this journey,” said Vision, looking over his shoulder back at Ava, “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

Ava shook her head.

“Very well,” Heimdall looked to the sky, crackling magic charging the air and trembling the Earth beneath them, “Brace yourself, gentlemen.”

And just before the Asgardian’s magic transported them to lands unknown, Vision could hear Brunnhilde approaching.

“Well, look at you… what’s your name, gorgeous?”

A pause.

“Ava. Ava Starr.”

* * *

They arrived in a desolate tundra, barren all around except for the blizzard encompassing them in a frenzy of wind and snow. Vision raised his hand to his forehead, barely able to make out the silhouette of his fingers.

“ _Helvete_ ,” Dr. Selvig cursed, shivering so ferociously that it seemed more indicative of a seizure than anything else, “Had I known ahead of time, I would’ve worn a thicker jacket.”

Thankfully, what with Vision being an android and all, whilst he was perfectly capable of acknowledging the drastic change in temperature around them, was otherwise unaffected by the freezing cold.

He slipped off his cape and wordlessly handed it to Dr. Selvig as he stepped past him to speak with Heimdall.

“I don’t understand,” Vision cast his gaze around the wall of snow, “Where are we?”

“Antarctica,” he answered.

“You mean to tell me Loki is here?” muttered Selvig, draping Vision’s cape around his shoulders like a shawl, “Kind of a crappy place to take a vacation, if you ask me.”

The corner of Heimdall’s lips pulled to the side.

“In regard to your question, the answer is no. Loki is not _here_ ,” he waved his hand and the blizzard parted before them like Moses and the Red Sea, creating a road directing them straight up to a castle made of ice and stone, “Loki… is up there.”

”Christ.”

As they walked down the dark and slippery path, Vision felt an overwhelming sense of being watched— judged. The spires reaching for the heavens, the ramparts and the parapets shutting away its inhabitants from the inquiring eye, the pinnacles spiked like the blades of a trident all conspiring together with the looming walls and elongated windows to make him feel small. It was as if he were an ant, suddenly requesting the presence of a lord… a _god._

It had the atmosphere of palaces long-abandoned, like the Abbey of Mont Saint-Michel out on its own little island and cut off from the world. Like Hohenzollern or the remnants of Lancaster, succumbing to decay. It conveyed centuries of loneliness and despair, of having withstood centuries on onslaught and war despite having only been raised within the last five years.

And yet… it had the magnificence of Versailles. 

But, instead of a Sun King, there was only _ice._

Heimdall ushered them inside, pushing open the massive doors with one mighty hand where Selvig had thrust his entire body against moments before.

The entrance-way spoke of the Gothic with the elevated rib vaults and pointed arches, and yet it was undeniable the influence of the Romanesque with its narrow fortitude. There was the lavish extravagance of the golden Baroque and the decorative finishings of the Medieval Scandinavians upon every pillar. It was both menacing and homey all at the same time.

But the pièce-de-résistance were the windows. They were a combination of Art Deco and Neo-Gothic in style, the stained glass portraying stories in gold and green that seemed hauntingly familiar...

Vision stopped before one in particular.

“This— This is the attack on New York,” he realized, running his fingers down the glass over the figure of Loki stabbing Thor between the ribs. A pillar of blinding blue light loomed above them, New York’s skyline dotting the background. “This is his _life._ ”

“More like a monument to his failures,” Heimdall stated from down the hall.

The atmosphere of the room changed.

A darkening. A bitterness. A mockery of self-loathing.

“Is there a difference?” Loki’s voice echoed around them, but he remained to be seen, “I was not expecting you until the end of the month, Heimdall.”

“There was an urgent matter that couldn’t wait until then,” Erik interjected before Heimdall could respond, “Could you, by any chance, come down so that we could speak? Face-to-face?”

Laughter echoed through the halls.

“Who’s to say…” the voice came from directly in front of them now, “...that I’m not already down there?”

A flash of green.

A scurrying of feet.

“Behind you,” something whispered into Vision’s ear.

He flinched and pivoted on his feet, only to find empty air and the echoing of amusement.

“He’s over there!” Erik shouted and Vision turned in just enough time to witness a flash of dark hair disappearing behind one of the large pillars. “No, wait, he’s over there—”

Erik ground his teeth together.

“He’s _messing_ with us.”

“What an astute observation, doctor,” Loki’s voice encircled them, growing closer and closer without giving away an inkling of his position, “But, you have intruded upon my domain, uninvinted. You should have expected a little… _mischief._ ”

The sudden flash of green encompassed the entire hall this time, showering them in its glittering luminescence. The near-sightings of Loki increased a hundred-fold. A cackling, here. A sudden brush of the hand, there. A silhouette, sometimes _three._

But Heimdall kept his eyes trained upon the Grand Staircase at the end of the pillars.

More specifically, at the empty throne at its base.

“We have a plan to stop Thanos.”

The illusions stopped.

“I’ve already done that,” Loki’s voice sounded bitter now… and tired. 

Oh, so very _tired._

“Yes,” Vision followed Heimdall’s gaze and slowly approached the empty throne, “You have. In _this_ timeline.”

Silence.

And then the throne made of ice and stone glistened and glimmered. What once seemed to be nothing more than an empty seat portrayed a king, decked out in all his glory… in gold, and leather, and furs. Scarlet eyes blinked underneath a horned crown. Blue lips curled into a smirk.

Loki, King of Jotunheim, leaned back in his throne and rested his cheek against his hand.

“I’m listening.”

* * *

Sam, Bucky and Wanda loitered outside Stephen Palmer-Strange’s porch, waiting for someone to answer the door.

They had lost touch throughout the years and it had been the oddest thing, really. Loki flying off without a second glance? That they could understand. But the Palmer-Strange’s? They’d been amicable. They had attended their wedding. Hell, Wanda had caught the _b_ _ouquet._  

But aside from the occasional card in the mail, there had been nothing but dead silence from the former Sorcerer Supreme. 

The door opened.

“Daddy!”

“ _Гавно,_ ” Bucky cursed underneath his breath.

“Daddy! Daddy!” the young boy in the vampire onesie repeated, rushing inside and tripping on the carpet; but, that didn’t deter him much as he quickly picked himself up again and further disappeared into the house, “We’ve got Blisters!”

“Visitors, Victor.”

The wooden floors of the lodge creaked as someone approached.

“We’ve got _visitors_.”

Dr. Stephen Palmer-Strange opened the door all the way, carrying the child in his arms. 

“Forgive me, he has trouble pronouncing certain letters. His canines are just a little bit too big for his mouth,” he explained, setting down his son and gently pushing him forward, “Victor, these are Daddy’s friends from work. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“Diya! I’m Blictor!” Victor pointed at himself and grinned, showing off those over-sized canines. Suddenly, the vampire onesie made a whole lot more sense. “I’m four!”

Stephen patted his son’s head.

“He’s four.”

“Well, now…. How do you do, little man,” Sam leaned down and opened his hand, grinning, “Gimme five.”

Victor looked between him and his dad; it was only after Stephen had given him the nod of approval that Victor matched Sam’s grin and slapped his hand with everything he had. Which wasn’t much, considering he was _four._

“Whoah, there! Strong slap you’ve got there, Vic,” Sam dramatically waved his hand in front of him, blowing on his palm as if it stung, “Next thing you know, you’ll be knocking me right into the Mirror Dimension.”

“Wait, lemme see,” Bucky squatted down and held out his metal palm, “Give me five.”

Sam swatted his arm.

“Not cool, man. Not cool.”

Bucky stood back up, pointing down at Victor and then gesturing back over his shoulder at the small children’s playground set up in the front lawn. “Mind if I go take him on the swings while you three talk?”

Stephen glanced down at his son.

“What do you say, Victor?” he posed him the same exact question, “Do you want to go play on the swings?”

“Yesp!” Victor beamed and bolted forward, grabbing Bucky’s hand and pulling him along, “You get t’baby sving!”

“Oh no,” Bucky drawled, “Not the baby swing.”

As soon as they were out of hearing distance, Stephen rested his hand against the door-frame. His eyes sharpened and lips pursed thin.

“Why are you three really here?” he asked, “Aside from stealing my son?”

Sam stood back up.

“You know why we’re here, Doc.”

“I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Stephen listened to their time travel story and tapped his hand against the door-frame. It’d been so long since he’d been in the midst of battle and, to be honest, he kind of… liked the quiet life. A life without danger. A life without monsters or mayhem. A life as a father, a _husband._

But that vision… the one he had so many years ago back on Titan. It had haunted him. 

_Snap. Dead._

_Snap. Dead._

_Snap... ???_

From the day Victor had taken his very first breath, Stephen had been counting down the days, the hours, _the minutes_ to when his duty as Sorcerer Supreme would come back to bite him. It seemed that time had finally come.

“If we do this… we can’t just turn back the hands of time to moments before the Snap. I know that Loki would love to redeem himself but… I can’t lose this,” he said, quiet but resolute, “I can’t lose Victor.”

“Stephen,” Wanda stepped closer, “If it came down to saving half the universe, would you really pick your son over all else?”

“Wouldn’t you have picked Vision?” he retorted, “At least you have the capability to bring him back. The same can’t be said for my son— _my kid_.”

Wanda stiffened.

“I know what you’re thinking: don’t be so selfish, Stephen. We’re not asking you to kill Victor. Just reverse time to before he ever existed. He’ll be born again,” Stephen looked past their shoulders, to where Victor was trying with all his little might to push Bucky on the tire swing, “But can you guarantee that?”

He met their eyes, his conviction unwavering.

“I don’t have the time stone. Not anymore. I can’t see into the future, but that doesn’t matter,” he said, “The future isn’t with fighting for if Victor isn’t in it.”

“We don’t trade lives,” Wanda whispered, more to herself than to anyone nearby.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head and outstretched her hand, “Very well. We’ll do it your way.”

“Well then, Miss Maximoff,” Stephen took her hand into his, “Consider the Avengers… _Assembled._ ”


End file.
